oracles which fatality sometimes allows。 The /City of Paris/ has her
great mast； all of bronze； carved with victories； and for watchman
Napoleon。 The barque may roll and pitch； but she cleaves the world；
illuminates it through the hundred mouths of her tribunes； ploughs the
seas of science； rides with full sail； cries from the height of her
tops； with the voice of her scientists and artists： 〃Onward； advance！
Follow me！〃 She carries a huge crew； which delights in adorning her
with fresh streamers。 Boys and urchins laughing in the rigging；
ballast of heavy /bourgeoisie/； working…men and sailor…men touched
with tar； in her cabins the lucky passengers； elegant midshipmen smoke
their cigars leaning over the bulwarks； then； on the deck； her
soldiers； innovators or ambitious； would accost every fresh shore； and
shooting out their bright lights upon it； ask for glory which is
pleasure； or for love which needs gold。
Thus the exorbitant movement of the proletariat； the corrupting
influence of the interests which consume the two middle classes； the
cruelties of the artist's thought； and the excessive pleasure which is
sought for incessantly by the great； explain the normal ugliness of
the Parisian physiognomy。 It is only in the Orient that the human race
presents a magnificent figure； but that is an effect of the constant
calm affected by those profound philosophers with their long pipes；
their short legs； their square contour； who despise and hold activity
in horror； whilst in Paris the little and the great and the mediocre
run and leap and drive； whipped on by an inexorable goddess； Necessity
the necessity for money； glory； and amusement。 Thus； any face which
is fresh and graceful and reposeful； any really young face； is in
Paris the most extraordinary of exceptions； it is met with rarely。
Should you see one there； be sure it belongs either to a young and
ardent ecclesiastic or to some good abbe of forty with three chins； to
a young girl of pure life such as is brought up in certain middle…
class families； to a mother of twenty； still full of illusions； as she
suckles her first…born； to a young man newly embarked from the
provinces； and intrusted to the care of some devout dowager who keeps
him without a sou； or； perhaps； to some shop assistant who goes to bed
at midnight wearied out with folding and unfolding calico； and rises
at seven o'clock to arrange the window； often again to some man of
science or poetry； who lives monastically in the embrace of a fine
idea； who remains sober； patient； and chaste； else to some self…
contented fool； feeding himself on folly； reeking of health； in a
perpetual state of absorption with his own smile； or to the soft and
happy race of loungers； the only folk really happy in Paris； which
unfolds for them hour by hour its moving poetry。
Nevertheless； there is in Paris a proportion of privileged beings to
whom this excessive movement of industries； interests； affairs； arts；
and gold is profitable。 These beings are women。 Although they also
have a thousand secret causes which； here more than elsewhere； destroy
their physiognomy； there are to be found in the feminine world little
happy colonies； who live in Oriental fashion and can preserve their
beauty； but these women rarely show themselves on foot in the streets；
they lie hid like rare plants who only unfold their petals at certain
hours； and constitute veritable exotic exceptions。 However； Paris is
essentially the country of contrasts。 If true sentiments are rare
there； there also are to be found； as elsewhere； noble friendships and
unlimited devotion。 On this battlefield of interests and passions；
just as in the midst of those marching societies where egoism
triumphs； where every one is obliged to defend himself； and which we
call /armies/； it seems as though sentiments liked to be complete when
they showed themselves； and are sublime by juxtaposition。 So it is
with faces。 In Paris one sometimes sees in the aristocracy； set like
stars； the ravishing faces of young people； the fruit of quite
exceptional manners and education。 To the youthful beauty of the
English stock they unite the firmness of Southern traits。 The fire of
their eyes； a delicious bloom on their lips； the lustrous black of
their soft locks； a white complexion； a distinguished caste of
features； render them the flowers of the human race； magnificent to
behold against the mass of other faces； worn； old； wrinkled； and
grimacing。 So women； too； admire such young people with that eager
pleasure which men take in watching a pretty girl； elegant； gracious；
and embellished with all the virginal charms with which our
imagination pleases to adorn the perfect woman。 If this hurried glance
at the population of Paris has enabled us to conceive the rarity of a
Raphaelesque face； and the passionate admiration which such an one
must inspire at the first sight； the prime interest of our history
will have been justified。 /Quod erat demonstrandum/if one may be
permitted to apply scholastic formulae to the science of manners。
Upon one of those fine spring mornings； when the leaves； although
unfolded； are not yet green； when the sun begins to gild the roofs；
and the sky is blue； when the population of Paris issues from its
cells to swarm along the boulevards； glides like a serpent of a
thousand coils through the Rue de la Paix towards the Tuileries；
saluting the hymeneal magnificence which the country puts on； on one
of these joyous days； then； a young man as beautiful as the day
itself； dressed with taste； easy of mannerto let out the secret he
was a love…child； the natural son of Lord Dudley and the famous
Marquise de Vordacwas walking in the great avenue of the Tuileries。
This Adonis； by name Henri de Marsay； was born in France； when Lord
Dudley had just married the young lady； already Henri's mother； to an
old gentleman called M。 de Marsay。 This faded and almost extinguished
butterfly recognized the child as his own in consideration of the life
interest in a fund of a hundred thousand francs definitively assigned
to his putative son； a generosity which did not cost Lord Dudley too
dear。 French funds were worth at that time seventeen francs； fifty
centimes。 The old gentleman died without having ever known his wife。
Madame de Marsay subsequently married the Marquis de Vordac； but
before becoming a marquise she showed very little anxiety as to her
son and Lord Dudley。 To begin with； the declaration of war between
France and England had separated the two lovers； and fidelity at all
costs was not； and never will be； the fashion of Paris。 Then the
successes of the woman； elegant； pretty； universally adored； crushed
in the Parisienne the maternal sentiment。 Lord Dudley was no more
troubled about his offspring than was the mother；the speedy
infidelity of a young girl he had ardently loved gave him； perhaps； a
sort of aversion for all that issued from her。 Moreover； fathers can；
perhaps； only love the children with whom they are fully acquainted； a
social belief of the utmost importance for the peace of families；
which should be held by all the celibate； proving as it does that
paternity is a sentiment nourished artificially by woman； custom； and
the law。
Poor Henri de Marsay knew no other father than that one of the two who
was not compelled to be one。 The paternity of M。 de Marsay was
naturally most incomplete。 In the natural order； it is but for a few
fleeting instants that children have a father； and M。 de Marsay
imitated nature。 The worthy man would not have sold his name had he
been free from vices。 Thus he squandered without remorse in gambling
hells； and drank elsewhere； the few dividends which the National
Treasury paid to its bondholders。 Then he handed over the child to an
aged sister； a Demoiselle de Marsay； who took much care of him； and
provided him； out of the meagre sum allowed by her brother； with a
tutor； an abbe without a farthing； who took the measure of the youth's
future； and determined to pay himself out of the hundred thousand
livres for the care given to his pupil； for whom he conceived an
affection。 As chance had it； this tutor was a true priest； one of
those ecclesiastics cut out to become cardinals in France； or Borgias
beneath the tiara。 He taught the child in three years what he might
have learned at college in ten。 Then the great man； by name the Abbe
de Maronis； completed the education of his pupil by making him study
civilization under all its aspects： he nourished him on his
experience； led him little into churches； which at that time were
closed； introduced him sometimes behind the scenes of theatres； more
often into the houses of courtesans； he exhibited human emotions to
him one by one； taught him politics in the drawing…rooms； where they
simmered at the time； explained to him the machinery of government；
and endeavored out of attraction towards a fine nature； deserted； yet
rich in promise； virilely to replace a mother： is not the Church the
mother of orphans？ The pupil was responsive to so much care。 The
worthy priest died in 1812； a bishop； with the satisfaction of having
left in this world a child whose heart and mind were so well moulded
that he could outwit a man of forty。 Who would have expected to have
found a heart of bronze； a brain of steel； beneath external traits as
seductive as ever the old painters； those naive artists； had given to
the serpent in the terrestrial paradise？ Nor was that all。 In
addition； the good…natured prelate had procured for the child of his
choice certain acquaintances in the best Parisian society； which might
equal in value； in the young man's hand； another hundred thousand
invested livres。 In fine； this priest； vicious but politic； sceptical
yet learned； treacherous yet amiable； weak in appearance yet as
vigorous physically as intellectually； was so genuinely useful to his
pupil； so complacent to his vices； so fine a calculator of all kinds
of strength； so profound when it was needful to make some human
reckoning； so youthful at table； at Frascati； atI know not where；
that the grateful Henri de Marsay was hardly moved at aught in 1814；
except when he looked at the portrait of his beloved bishop； t