LADIES’ LETTER FROM PARIS

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 336, 10 July 1875, Page 3

LADIES’ LETTER FROM PARIS

(From a correspondent of the Press.) Paris, May 15. The grand institution of golden weddings is becoming abused —nothing is sacred in the eyes, it is said, of a pompier, and the same may be remarked of other ordinary callings also. When a tradesman now wishes to puff up, not himself, but hxs wares, he issues letters of invitation for the public to assist at his golden wedding, which means, to •witness the successful working of the machinery of small profits and quick returns; of silks at fabulously low prices, till the bill be made out; of cashmeres at fifty per cent, below prime cost, and great bargains in general, as the consequence of buying up a bankrupt’s stock. All this is shabby, and may have contributed to sadden Comte de Waldeck’s latter days, and made him renounce his intention of celebrating a second golden wedding with his second wife. He has died full of years—llo, and of honors, for every one esteemed the sturdy centenarian, so prim and so venerable, by giving him' engravings to clean that required no touchings, or patronised his bijou theatre in a court yard called a cits in French, and where his youngest son, aged twenty-four, was first fiddle. He was an artist by profession, and loved to paint natural scenery that no other European eye had witnessed. It is thus that at one time he drifted into the wilds of Mexico, and as a reward for his

talent, and to save himself from being scalped, he had to marry an Indian princess, whose trousseau consisted of some matting, a few skins, several bows and arrows, and 150 scalps. Many young couples commenced life with less, having had nothing at all. Despite this union, he married twice subsequently, had no fear of a divorce, counting perhaps on the chronically bad relations between his bride’s country and that of his own by adoption— France. Not so, poor Professor Tin-Tun-Lin, who now lies in Mazas prison on a charge of bigamy. He married a few years ago a very pretty French girl, to whom he was giving lessons in the language of the Celestials; not treating her well, her friends ascertained he had been already married, having left his girl behind him in Canton. T. T. Lin was well up in all the learning of his country, and supplied no end of subjects for romances about China, He was an invaluable archaeologist, and was ever prepared to trace the origin of all things to his Vaterland, and years before the world was created according to the Ussher chronology; his last feat related to spectacles, and he produced a piece of old crockery, with the figures of mandarins looking apparently at fish fights, through spectacles, which were kept in position by strings coiling over the ear, with weights at the end, just like the cords of a Swiss cuckoo clock. I nearly forgot to add, that painting is calculated to enable me to graduate in the seven ages of man; thus Titian was 99 years old when he was gathered to his fathers; Claude Lorrain 82, Teniers 80, Greuze 79, David 77, Leonardi de Vinci 75, Poussin and Reynolds 71. Michael Angelo was 90 when he died. Other notabilities not destined for longevity—the Deputies: they have been a long time doomed to death, and at last are fated to die; they themselves are about pronouncing their own doom, which is considered to be as great a sacrifice as establishing a constitution. The beautiful weather we enjoy must have something to do with these political bonbons, and doctors say the span of life is intimately connected with meteorology. When the Deputies left for their vacation, the terrible sullen sky and north-east zephyrs had settled down on us like the old man of the tain on the backs of certain voyagers, no more to be shaken off than a poor relation, or a dun after the twentieth asking for a settlement of his little bill; well, the proverbial die-hards have returned, and are the first to throw their hats up in the air and demand their extinction ; they merit to be elected senators, and in any case their decision is like water in the desert, and received with as much gratitude as the new fruits and vegetables which are strongly competing with cosmetics in imparting a spring look to wintry visages. One of these statisticians, who have neither a soul for beauty, or poetry however selected, has calculated that for every inch of the refreshing rainfall that comes down, as gently as mercy, the asparagus diminishes three sous the bundle, and the peas five sous the quart; just think of the position of the lady who may be mated to such a man. Were it not for the Prussians there would be no excitement at all in public events, we would be straight on the road to the millenium ; the French have no more idea of fighting than quakers, which explains why they are regarded as belligerents by their conquerors ; if the dial of time cannot be put back, neither can it be advanced ; the skeleton in the French cupboard is the necessity of paying a return .visit to Berlin ; the when and the how must be left to time and chance, which happens to everything, meanwhile we are enjoying our cakes and ale; indeed, the only shadow falling across our chamber door is another of those ministerial letters enjoining all officials in the name of France and humanity to be watchful that no individual be deprived of his right—that is, to live till he be dead, and not to inter him before the “vital spark has fled.” Of late this phrase is not much used, and it is best to bring it occasionally to the front for the benefit of the rising generation, which in France is now (progressing at a very high rate, some 15 per cent higher than- during the last two years. Everything you see is being done to vex the Prussians; even the revenue is surpassing in fecundity the best days of the Empire, and instead of laying on, the fighting will now be limited to the taking off of taxes. The agitation in this end has already set in, and in the true spirit of charity by one interest, pointing out the advantage of making other interests carry its burdens. Then again geographical studies are the order of the day. There are special lectures; special books on this branch of useful knowledge, so that in the future Frenchmen will not be indebted to the bulletins of their enemies for accurate information of their own country. This quick march towards material and military resuscitation—for it is no crime to repair national disasters—does not absorb all attention. The fine arts are cultivated with a like eagerness, the present exhibition of living artists in the Palais de Vlndustrie is a proof. It may be considered a successful display, because it resembles its predecessors, and those who have no taste for what is lovely and talented can enjoy the moving to and fro, in close column order, of the delighted and fashionable crowd. As a general observation, big pictures are less numerous than usual, which is an advantage. There is too much for the eye in them to take in, and the difficulty is increased to remember their subjects. These kind of paintings are excellent when hung high on the ceiling of a church or the dome of an institution. Nothing so charming as a little cabinet picture that your eyes can almost touch while embracing, and where the imagination revels in a hide-and-go-seek chase after concentrated beauties. But this is sinning on the side of disquisition, and which would prove as refreshing as a charity sermon and its thirteen heads in favor of indigent room-keepers; as a notorious proof of artistic talent at large, the number of pictures rejected equals those admitted, and the declined with thanks have opened an exhibition on their own account, with, of course, no connection with the establishment over the way. In the court yard of the same building, where the salon des refuses , is installed, there is a wild beast show, a kind of ambulatory zoological garden. The city is full of these kind of shows, and they pay better than dramas and tragedies, operettes only eclipse them in receipts. And touching operette, Strauss 11., of Vienna, has created quite an enthusiasm here with his “ Reine Indigo,” a composition in three acts, which is a collection of new waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles, as Strauss only can write them, with the most charming of songs to amuse the ear after occupying the feet, for during the execution of the melodious, mysterious dance airs, the feet of the spectators keep up a sustained Kentish fire, Xhe naan that in-

vents a new waltz or a quadrille is as great a benefactor of his race ,is he who discovers a new sauce. Few ladies 'ii will bless the name of Strauss, and he w tild he no gentleman who would not wish him all the delights of a Mahometan paradise when age and honors, whist and piano-thumping, have no more attractions for him in this vale of tears. Parisians can be serious when the occasion demands it, and this was seen at the burial of the martyr-balloonists, Spinelli and Sivel, who soared too high, but their memory will not be the less respected and perpetuated. A beautiful monument will be erected to them in Pere la Chaise, where as in death, they are not divided. A prize will be offered for the best design for the monument. On the other hand the Municipal Council, which so gracefully takes this matter in hand, dashes all our romantic ideas by declining to expend 130,005 fr on the restoration of the tomb of Abelard and Heloi'se in the some cemetery, alleging there is no evidence that it contains the remains of the lovers ; it is sufficient to make one wish that girls had the right to vote in order to return fit and proper town councillors. As was apprehended, the new municipality being nearly all Republicans, something disgraceful was expected from them. Their only redeeming feature is voting the 100,000 fr for the Grand Prix, to be run next month, and open to all comers, even if they are dwellers beyond Mesopotamia ; but Parisians could no more do without their excitement of the racecourse than they could dispense with their morning cup of chocolate, and all the delicacies of the season throughout the day. The racecourse also serves as the glass of fashion and the mould of form : it is the rendezvous for sets and coteries, an al fresco drawing-room, an out-of-door reception on a large scale. Ihe last subject that any person would think of speaking about is horses ; births, deaths, and marriages, chiffons , balls, concerts, country parties, church-going and pilgrimages—these constitute the affairs of State discussed, for ladies never at any period of French history took less interest in politics. Let us look at the fashions from the grand stand point of view, where toilettes suggest so many parterres of flowers, and ladies, like Solomon, are arrayed in all their glory; it is a tournament of costumes, a congress dc la mode , where toilettes are as charming as innova'ions are numerous. The best display is ever in that sanctum sanctorum , the weighing paddock ; though in Republic we are not the less living under a regime of good manners; so we commence with .Queen Isabella, as stout as Alboni, very plain in features, a drawback forgotten in her ready smile and frank manner ; she likes the militair'es beyond doubt, and so approaches her sister-Latins, the French; she would certainly feel more at home in a messroom than a salon; she is accompanied by her three daughters, aged 14, 12, and 11 respectively, more French in appearance than Andalusian, Her ex-Majesty wore a delicious toilette of lilac faille, with tunic garnished with Persian designs on Algerian silk; the omhrelle was in harmony with the robe, and was trimmed like it also; her daughters were dressed in silver grey mohair. Now for the elegantes par excellence . the Princess de Metternich, thinner and even plainer than the Queen of Spain, wore an exquisitely fitting Louis XYI. robe of bronze green stripe on a maize ground; hat in straw, trimmed with a crown of grass cut by a cockade knot in velvet of same color as the stripes of the robe. The Comtesse de Pourtales had a charming directoire toilette; jupon and vest in faille of the thousand striped black and white pattern; rediugote tunic of faille, trimmed with a baud of pearls of two shades as the jupon ; the hat in front was straw, and the back the same stuff as the jupon ; white tulle strings, forming a large bow ; ear-rings, two large pearls. The Duchesse de Monchy had a toilette of Edinburgh cloth, grey coffee color, sleeves mahogany colored faille, hat in Belgian straw, and very small, trimmed with twisted fringe, mahogany ribbon, garlands of roses and carnations. The Baroness de Rothschild wore a cream colored woollen toilette, ornamented with galons ; the round straw hat was trimmed with a single branch of royal rose and its leaves. The Comtesse de Moltke, wife of the Danish Ambassador, had a toilette of blue China cashmere, with jupon to match, redingote trimmed with feathers. As a general remark, the cut of the robes leans still to the style directoire. Hats are worn very much on the back of the head, and flowers predominate over ribbons. The Bulgare plait is in stronger esteem than ever, and there is a decided tendency to return to wasp waists. Madame Rattazzi only suffers from the trouble of how to expend her immense wealth. She is a great favorite in the newspaper world, and though with Bonaparte blood in her veins, keeps aloof from the Napoleons. She gives splendid banquets on the ■ anniversaries of her childrens’ birthdays, and is initiating French and Italian ladies into the delights of Aunt Sally and the mysteries of bowling-pins. The Zoological Gardens possess a rat that absorbs more interest than the lions and the hippopotamus. It was given to a serpent to breakfast upon, an honor the rat declined, and springing at the reptile’s throat cut it across. The struggle for life has been much applauded, A word about poor Levy, the publisher, the real friend of literary men, and though an ’Bbrew Jew, not the less respected. He started in life without a sou, and has left millions. He studied for the stage, but failed. Rachel was his fellowstudent, and encouraged him. When he had a few sous he bought fried potatoes and shared them with Rachel during the interludes of declamation. Lips though rosy, must be fed.