The Spectacles
MANY years ago, it was the fashion to ridicule the idea of "love atfirst sight;" but those who think, not less than those who feeldeeply, have always advocated its existence. Modern discoveries,indeed, in what may be termed ethical magnetism or magnetoesthetics,render it probable that the most natural, and, consequently, thetruest and most intense of the human affections are those which arisein the heart as if by electric sympathy -- in a word, that thebrightest and most enduring of the psychal fetters are those whichare riveted by a glance. The confession I am about to make will addanother to the already almost innumerable instances of the truth ofthe position.My story requires that I should be somewhat minute. I am still a veryyoung man -- not yet twenty-two years of age. My name, at present, isa very usual and rather plebeian one -- Simpson. I say "at present;"for it is only lately that I have been so called -- havinglegislatively adopted this surname within the last year in order toreceive a large inheritance left me by a distant male relative,Adolphus Simpson, Esq. The bequest was conditioned upon my taking thename of the testator, -- the family, not the Christian name; myChristian name is Napoleon Bonaparte -- or, more properly, these aremy first and middle appellations.I assumed the name, Simpson, with some reluctance, as in my truepatronym, Froissart, I felt a very pardonable pride -- believing thatI could trace a descent from the immortal author of the "Chronicles."While on the subject of names, by the bye, I may mention a singularcoincidence of sound attending the names of some of my immediatepredecessors. My father was a Monsieur Froissart, of Paris. His wife-- my mother, whom he married at fifteen -- was a MademoiselleCroissart, eldest daughter of Croissart the banker, whose wife,again, being only sixteen when married, was the eldest daughter ofone Victor Voissart. Monsieur Voissart, very singularly, had marrieda lady of similar name -- a Mademoiselle Moissart. She, too, wasquite a child when married; and her mother, also, Madame Moissart,was only fourteen when led to the altar. These early marriages areusual in France. Here, however, are Moissart, Voissart, Croissart,and Froissart, all in the direct line of descent. My own name,though, as I say, became Simpson, by act of Legislature, and with somuch repugnance on my part, that, at one period, I actually hesitatedabout accepting the legacy with the useless and annoying provisoattached.As to personal endowments, I am by no means deficient. On thecontrary, I believe that I am well made, and possess what nine tenthsof the world would call a handsome face. In height I am five feeteleven. My hair is black and curling. My nose is sufficiently good.My eyes are large and gray; and although, in fact they are weak avery inconvenient degree, still no defect in this regard would besuspected from their appearance. The weakness itself, however, hasalways much annoyed me, and I have resorted to every remedy -- shortof wearing glasses. Being youthful and good-looking, I naturallydislike these, and have resolutely refused to employ them. I knownothing, indeed, which so disfigures the countenance of a youngperson, or so impresses every feature with an air of demureness, ifnot altogether of sanctimoniousness and of age. An eyeglass, on theother hand, has a savor of downright foppery and affectation. I havehitherto managed as well as I could without either. But something toomuch of these merely personal details, which, after all, are oflittle importance. I will content myself with saying, in addition,that my temperament is sanguine, rash, ardent, enthusiastic -- andthat all my life I have been a devoted admirer of the women.One night last winter I entered a box at the P- -- Theatre, incompany with a friend, Mr. Talbot. It was an opera night, and thebills presented a very rare attraction, so that the house wasexcessively crowded. We were in time, however, to obtain the frontseats which had been reserved for us, and into which, with somelittle difficulty, we elbowed our way.For two hours my companion, who was a musical fanatico, gave hisundivided attention to the stage; and, in the meantime, I amusedmyself by observing the audience, which consisted, in chief part, ofthe very elite of the city. Having satisfied myself upon this point,I was about turning my eyes to the prima donna, when they werearrested and riveted by a figure in one of the private boxes whichhad escaped my observation.If I live a thousand years, I can never forget the intense emotionwith which I regarded this figure. It was that of a female, the mostexquisite I had ever beheld. The face was so far turned toward thestage that, for some minutes, I could not obtain a view of it -- butthe form was divine; no other word can sufficiently express itsmagnificent proportion -- and even the term "divine" seemsridiculously feeble as I write it.The magic of a lovely form in woman -- the necromancy of femalegracefulness -- was always a power which I had found it impossible toresist, but here was grace personified, incarnate, the beau ideal ofmy wildest and most enthusiastic visions. The figure, almost all ofwhich the construction of the box permitted to be seen, was somewhatabove the medium height, and nearly approached, without positivelyreaching, the majestic. Its perfect fullness and tournure weredelicious. The head of which only the back was visible, rivalled inoutline that of the Greek Psyche, and was rather displayed thanconcealed by an elegant cap of gaze aerienne, which put me in mind ofthe ventum textilem of Apuleius. The right arm hung over thebalustrade of the box, and thrilled every nerve of my frame with itsexquisite symmetry. Its upper portion was draperied by one of theloose open sleeves now in fashion. This extended but little below theelbow. Beneath it was worn an under one of some frail material,close-fitting, and terminated by a cuff of rich lace, which fellgracefully over the top of the hand, revealing only the delicatefingers, upon one of which sparkled a diamond ring, which I at oncesaw was of extraordinary value. The admirable roundness of the wristwas well set off by a bracelet which encircled it, and which also wasornamented and clasped by a magnificent aigrette of jewels-telling,in words that could not be mistaken, at once of the wealth andfastidious taste of the wearer.I gazed at this queenly apparition for at least half an hour, as if Ihad been suddenly converted to stone; and, during this period, I feltthe full force and truth of all that has been said or sung concerning"love at first sight." My feelings were totally different from anywhich I had hitherto experienced, in the presence of even the mostcelebrated specimens of female loveliness. An unaccountable, and whatI am compelled to consider a magnetic, sympathy of soul for soul,seemed to rivet, not only my vision, but my whole powers of thoughtand feeling, upon the admirable object before me. I saw -- I felt --I knew that I was deeply, madly, irrevocably in love -- and this evenbefore seeing the face of the person beloved. So intense, indeed, wasthe passion that consumed me, that I really believe it would havereceived little if any abatement had the features, yet unseen, provedof merely ordinary character, so anomalous is the nature of the onlytrue love -- of the love at first sight -- and so little reallydependent is it upon the external conditions which only seem tocreate and control it.While I was thus wrapped in admiration of this lovely vision, asudden disturbance among the audience caused her to turn her headpartially toward me, so that I beheld the entire profile of the face.Its beauty even exceeded my anticipations -- and yet there wassomething about it which disappointed me without my being able totell exactly what it was. I said "disappointed," but this is notaltogether the word. My sentiments were at once quieted and exalted.They partook less of transport and more of calm enthusiasm ofenthusiastic repose. This state of feeling arose, perhaps, from theMadonna-like and matronly air of the face; and yet I at onceunderstood that it could not have arisen entirely from this. Therewas something else- some mystery which I could not develope -- someexpression about the countenance which slightly disturbed me while itgreatly heightened my interest. In fact, I was just in that conditionof mind which prepares a young and susceptible man for any act ofextravagance. Had the lady been alone, I should undoubtedly haveentered her box and accosted her at all hazards; but, fortunately,she was attended by two companions -- a gentleman, and a strikinglybeautiful woman, to all appearance a few years younger than herself.I revolved in my mind a thousand schemes by which I might obtain,hereafter, an introduction to the elder lady, or, for the present, atall events, a more distinct view of her beauty. I would have removedmy position to one nearer her own, but the crowded state of thetheatre rendered this impossible; and the stern decrees of Fashionhad, of late, imperatively prohibited the use of the opera-glass in acase such as this, even had I been so fortunate as to have one withme -- but I had not -- and was thus in despair.At length I bethought me of applying to my companion."Talbot," I said, "you have an opera-glass. Let me have it.""An opera -- glass! -- no! -- what do you suppose I would be doingwith an opera-glass?" Here he turned impatiently toward the stage."But, Talbot," I continued, pulling him by the shoulder, "listen tome will you? Do you see the stage -- box? -- there! -- no, the next.-- did you ever behold as lovely a woman?""She is very beautiful, no doubt," he said."I wonder who she can be?""Why, in the name of all that is angelic, don't you know who she is?'Not to know her argues yourself unknown.' She is the celebratedMadame Lalande -- the beauty of the day par excellence, and the talkof the whole town. Immensely wealthy too -- a widow, and a greatmatch -- has just arrived from Paris.""Do you know her?""Yes; I have the honor.""Will you introduce me?""Assuredly, with the greatest pleasure; when shall it be?""To-morrow, at one, I will call upon you at B--'s."Very good; and now do hold your tongue, if you can."In this latter respect I was forced to take Talbot's advice; for heremained obstinately deaf to every further question or suggestion,and occupied himself exclusively for the rest of the evening withwhat was transacting upon the stage.In the meantime I kept my eyes riveted on Madame Lalande, and atlength had the good fortune to obtain a full front view of her face.It was exquisitely lovely -- this, of course, my heart had told mebefore, even had not Talbot fully satisfied me upon the point -- butstill the unintelligible something disturbed me. I finally concludedthat my senses were impressed by a certain air of gravity, sadness,or, still more properly, of weariness, which took something from theyouth and freshness of the countenance, only to endow it with aseraphic tenderness and majesty, and thus, of course, to myenthusiastic and romantic temperment, with an interest tenfold.While I thus feasted my eyes, I perceived, at last, to my greattrepidation, by an almost imperceptible start on the part of thelady, that she had become suddenly aware of the intensity of my gaze.Still, I was absolutely fascinated, and could not withdraw it, evenfor an instant. She turned aside her face, and again I saw only thechiselled contour of the back portion of the head. After someminutes, as if urged by curiosity to see if I was still looking, shegradually brought her face again around and again encountered myburning gaze. Her large dark eyes fell instantly, and a deep blushmantled her cheek. But what was my astonishment at perceiving thatshe not only did not a second time avert her head, but that sheactually took from her girdle a double eyeglass -- elevated it --adjusted it -- and then regarded me through it, intently anddeliberately, for the space of several minutes.Had a thunderbolt fallen at my feet I could not have been morethoroughly astounded -- astounded only -- not offended or disgustedin the slightest degree; although an action so bold in any otherwoman would have been likely to offend or disgust. But the wholething was done with so much quietude -- so much nonchalance -- somuch repose- with so evident an air of the highest breeding, in short-- that nothing of mere effrontery was perceptible, and my solesentiments were those of admiration and surprise.I observed that, upon her first elevation of the glass, she hadseemed satisfied with a momentary inspection of my person, and waswithdrawing the instrument, when, as if struck by a second thought,she resumed it, and so continued to regard me with fixed attentionfor the space of several minutes -- for five minutes, at the veryleast, I am sure.This action, so remarkable in an American theatre, attracted verygeneral observation, and gave rise to an indefinite movement, orbuzz, among the audience, which for a moment filled me withconfusion, but produced no visible effect upon the countenance ofMadame Lalande.Having satisfied her curiosity -- if such it was -- she dropped theglass, and quietly gave her attention again to the stage; her profilenow being turned toward myself, as before. I continued to watch herunremittingly, although I was fully conscious of my rudeness in sodoing. Presently I saw the head slowly and slightly change itsposition; and soon I became convinced that the lady, while pretendingto look at the stage was, in fact, attentively regarding myself. Itis needless to say what effect this conduct, on the part of sofascinating a woman, had upon my excitable mind.Having thus scrutinized me for perhaps a quarter of an hour, the fairobject of my passion addressed the gentleman who attended her, andwhile she spoke, I saw distinctly, by the glances of both, that theconversation had reference to myself.Upon its conclusion, Madame Lalande again turned toward the stage,and, for a few minutes, seemed absorbed in the performance. At theexpiration of this period, however, I was thrown into an extremity ofagitation by seeing her unfold, for the second time, the eye-glasswhich hung at her side, fully confront me as before, and,disregarding the renewed buzz of the audience, survey me, from headto foot, with the same miraculous composure which had previously sodelighted and confounded my soul.This extraordinary behavior, by throwing me into a perfect fever ofexcitement -- into an absolute delirium of love-served rather toembolden than to disconcert me. In the mad intensity of my devotion,I forgot everything but the presence and the majestic loveliness ofthe vision which confronted my gaze. Watching my opportunity, when Ithought the audience were fully engaged with the opera, I at lengthcaught the eyes of Madame Lalande, and, upon the instant, made aslight but unmistakable bow.She blushed very deeply -- then averted her eyes -- then slowly andcautiously looked around, apparently to see if my rash action hadbeen noticed -- then leaned over toward the gentleman who sat by herside.I now felt a burning sense of the impropriety I had committed, andexpected nothing less than instant exposure; while a vision ofpistols upon the morrow floated rapidly and uncomfortably through mybrain. I was greatly and immediately relieved, however, when I sawthe lady merely hand the gentleman a play-bill, without speaking, butthe reader may form some feeble conception of my astonishment -- ofmy profound amazement -- my delirious bewilderment of heart and soul-- when, instantly afterward, having again glanced furtively around,she allowed her bright eyes to set fully and steadily upon my own,and then, with a faint smile, disclosing a bright line of her pearlyteeth, made two distinct, pointed, and unequivocal affirmativeinclinations of the head.It is useless, of course, to dwell upon my joy -- upon my transport-upon my illimitable ecstasy of heart. If ever man was mad with excessof happiness, it was myself at that moment. I loved. This was myfirst love -- so I felt it to be. It was love supreme-indescribable.It was "love at first sight;" and at first sight, too, it had beenappreciated and returned.Yes, returned. How and why should I doubt it for an instant. Whatother construction could I possibly put upon such conduct, on thepart of a lady so beautiful -- so wealthy -- evidently soaccomplished -- of so high breeding -- of so lofty a position insociety -- in every regard so entirely respectable as I felt assuredwas Madame Lalande? Yes, she loved me -- she returned the enthusiasmof my love, with an enthusiasm as blind -- as uncompromising -- asuncalculating -- as abandoned -- and as utterly unbounded as my own!These delicious fancies and reflections, however, were nowinterrupted by the falling of the drop-curtain. The audience arose;and the usual tumult immediately supervened. Quitting Talbotabruptly, I made every effort to force my way into closer proximitywith Madame Lalande. Having failed in this, on account of the crowd,I at length gave up the chase, and bent my steps homeward; consolingmyself for my disappointment in not having been able to touch eventhe hem of her robe, by the reflection that I should be introduced byTalbot, in due form, upon the morrow.This morrow at last came, that is to say, a day finally dawned upon along and weary night of impatience; and then the hours until "one"were snail-paced, dreary, and innumerable. But even Stamboul, it issaid, shall have an end, and there came an end to this long delay.The clock struck. As the last echo ceased, I stepped into B--'s andinquired for Talbot."Out," said the footman -- Talbot's own."Out!" I replied, staggering back half a dozen paces -- "let me tellyou, my fine fellow, that this thing is thoroughly impossible andimpracticable; Mr. Talbot is not out. What do you mean?""Nothing, sir; only Mr. Talbot is not in, that's all. He rode over toS--, immediately after breakfast, and left word that he would not bein town again for a week."I stood petrified with horror and rage. I endeavored to reply, but mytongue refused its office. At length I turned on my heel, livid withwrath, and inwardly consigning the whole tribe of the Talbots to theinnermost regions of Erebus. It was evident that my consideratefriend, il fanatico, had quite forgotten his appointment with myself-- had forgotten it as soon as it was made. At no time was he a veryscrupulous man of his word. There was no help for it; so smotheringmy vexation as well as I could, I strolled moodily up the street,propounding futile inquiries about Madame Lalande to every maleacquaintance I met. By report she was known, I found, to all- to manyby sight -- but she had been in town only a few weeks, and there werevery few, therefore, who claimed her personal acquaintance. Thesefew, being still comparatively strangers, could not, or would not,take the liberty of introducing me through the formality of a morningcall. While I stood thus in despair, conversing with a trio offriends upon the all absorbing subject of my heart, it so happenedthat the subject itself passed by."As I live, there she is!" cried one."Surprisingly beautiful!" exclaimed a second."An angel upon earth!" ejaculated a third.I looked; and in an open carriage which approached us, passing slowlydown the street, sat the enchanting vision of the opera, accompaniedby the younger lady who had occupied a portion of her box."Her companion also wears remarkably well," said the one of my triowho had spoken first."Astonishingly," said the second; "still quite a brilliant air, butart will do wonders. Upon my word, she looks better than she did atParis five years ago. A beautiful woman still; -- don't you think so,Froissart? -- Simpson, I mean.""Still!" said I, "and why shouldn't she be? But compared with herfriend she is as a rush -- light to the evening star -- a glow --worm to Antares."Ha! ha! ha! -- why, Simpson, you have an astonishing tact at makingdiscoveries -- original ones, I mean." And here we separated, whileone of the trio began humming a gay vaudeville, of which I caughtonly the lines-Ninon, Ninon, Ninon a bas-A bas Ninon De L'Enclos!During this little scene, however, one thing had served greatly toconsole me, although it fed the passion by which I was consumed. Asthe carriage of Madame Lalande rolled by our group, I had observedthat she recognized me; and more than this, she had blessed me, bythe most seraphic of all imaginable smiles, with no equivocal mark ofthe recognition.As for an introduction, I was obliged to abandon all hope of it untilsuch time as Talbot should think proper to return from the country.In the meantime I perseveringly frequented every reputable place ofpublic amusement; and, at length, at the theatre, where I first sawher, I had the supreme bliss of meeting her, and of exchangingglances with her once again. This did not occur, however, until thelapse of a fortnight. Every day, in the interim, I had inquired forTalbot at his hotel, and every day had been thrown into a spasm ofwrath by the everlasting "Not come home yet" of his footman.Upon the evening in question, therefore, I was in a condition littleshort of madness. Madame Lalande, I had been told, was a Parisian --had lately arrived from Paris -- might she not suddenly return? --return before Talbot came back -- and might she not be thus lost tome forever? The thought was too terrible to bear. Since my futurehappiness was at issue, I resolved to act with a manly decision. In aword, upon the breaking up of the play, I traced the lady to herresidence, noted the address, and the next morning sent her a fulland elaborate letter, in which I poured out my whole heart.I spoke boldly, freely -- in a word, I spoke with passion. Iconcealed nothing -- nothing even of my weakness. I alluded to theromantic circumstances of our first meeting -- even to the glanceswhich had passed between us. I went so far as to say that I feltassured of her love; while I offered this assurance, and my ownintensity of devotion, as two excuses for my otherwise unpardonableconduct. As a third, I spoke of my fear that she might quit the citybefore I could have the opportunity of a formal introduction. Iconcluded the most wildly enthusiastic epistle ever penned, with afrank declaration of my worldly circumstances -- of my affluence --and with an offer of my heart and of my hand.In an agony of expectation I awaited the reply. After what seemed thelapse of a century it came.Yes, actually came. Romantic as all this may appear, I reallyreceived a letter from Madame Lalande -- the beautiful, the wealthy,the idolized Madame Lalande. Her eyes -- her magnificent eyes, hadnot belied her noble heart. Like a true Frenchwoman as she was shehad obeyed the frank dictates of her reason -- the generous impulsesof her nature -- despising the conventional pruderies of the world.She had not scorned my proposals. She had not sheltered herself insilence. She had not returned my letter unopened. She had even sentme, in reply, one penned by her own exquisite fingers. It ran thus:"Monsieur Simpson vill pardonne me for not compose de butefulle tongof his contree so vell as might. It is only de late dat I am arrive,and not yet ave do opportunite for to -- l'etudier."Vid dis apologie for the maniere, I vill now say dat, helas!-Monsieur Simpson ave guess but de too true. Need I say de more?Helas! am I not ready speak de too moshe?"EUGENIE LALAND."This noble -- spirited note I kissed a million times, and committed,no doubt, on its account, a thousand other extravagances that havenow escaped my memory. Still Talbot would not return. Alas! could hehave formed even the vaguest idea of the suffering his absence hadoccasioned his friend, would not his sympathizing nature have flownimmediately to my relief? Still, however, he came not. I wrote. Hereplied. He was detained by urgent business -- but would shortlyreturn. He begged me not to be impatient -- to moderate my transports-- to read soothing books -- to drink nothing stronger than Hock --and to bring the consolations of philosophy to my aid. The fool! ifhe could not come himself, why, in the name of every thing rational,could he not have enclosed me a letter of presentation? I wrote himagain, entreating him to forward one forthwith. My letter wasreturned by that footman, with the following endorsement in pencil.The scoundrel had joined his master in the country:"Left S- -- yesterday, for parts unknown -- did not say where -- orwhen be back -- so thought best to return letter, knowing yourhandwriting, and as how you is always, more or less, in a hurry."Yours sincerely,"STUBBS."After this, it is needless to say, that I devoted to the infernaldeities both master and valet: -- but there was little use in anger,and no consolation at all in complaint.But I had yet a resource left, in my constitutional audacity.Hitherto it had served me well, and I now resolved to make it availme to the end. Besides, after the correspondence which had passedbetween us, what act of mere informality could I commit, withinbounds, that ought to be regarded as indecorous by Madame Lalande?Since the affair of the letter, I had been in the habit of watchingher house, and thus discovered that, about twilight, it was hercustom to promenade, attended only by a negro in livery, in a publicsquare overlooked by her windows. Here, amid the luxuriant andshadowing groves, in the gray gloom of a sweet midsummer evening, Iobserved my opportunity and accosted her.The better to deceive the servant in attendance, I did this with theassured air of an old and familiar acquaintance. With a presence ofmind truly Parisian, she took the cue at once, and, to greet me, heldout the most bewitchingly little of hands. The valet at once fellinto the rear, and now, with hearts full to overflowing, wediscoursed long and unreservedly of our love.As Madame Lalande spoke English even less fluently than she wrote it,our conversation was necessarily in French. In this sweet tongue, soadapted to passion, I gave loose to the impetuous enthusiasm of mynature, and, with all the eloquence I could command, besought her toconsent to an immediate marriage.At this impatience she smiled. She urged the old story of decorum-that bug-bear which deters so many from bliss until the opportunityfor bliss has forever gone by. I had most imprudently made it knownamong my friends, she observed, that I desired her acquaintance- thusthat I did not possess it -- thus, again, there was no possibility ofconcealing the date of our first knowledge of each other. And thenshe adverted, with a blush, to the extreme recency of this date. Towed immediately would be improper -- would be indecorous -- would beoutre. All this she said with a charming air of naivete whichenraptured while it grieved and convinced me. She went even so far asto accuse me, laughingly, of rashness -- of imprudence. She bade meremember that I really even know not who she was -- what were herprospects, her connections, her standing in society. She begged me,but with a sigh, to reconsider my proposal, and termed my love aninfatuation -- a will o' the wisp -- a fancy or fantasy of the moment-- a baseless and unstable creation rather of the imagination than ofthe heart. These things she uttered as the shadows of the sweettwilight gathered darkly and more darkly around us -- and then, witha gentle pressure of her fairy-like hand, overthrew, in a singlesweet instant, all the argumentative fabric she had reared.I replied as best I could -- as only a true lover can. I spoke atlength, and perseveringly of my devotion, of my passion -- of herexceeding beauty, and of my own enthusiastic admiration. Inconclusion, I dwelt, with a convincing energy, upon the perils thatencompass the course of love -- that course of true love that neverdid run smooth -- and thus deduced the manifest danger of renderingthat course unnecessarily long.This latter argument seemed finally to soften the rigor of herdetermination. She relented; but there was yet an obstacle, she said,which she felt assured I had not properly considered. This was adelicate point -- for a woman to urge, especially so; in mentioningit, she saw that she must make a sacrifice of her feelings; still,for me, every sacrifice should be made. She alluded to the topic ofage. Was I aware -- was I fully aware of the discrepancy between us?That the age of the husband, should surpass by a few years -- even byfifteen or twenty -- the age of the wife, was regarded by the worldas admissible, and, indeed, as even proper, but she had alwaysentertained the belief that the years of the wife should never exceedin number those of the husband. A discrepancy of this unnatural kindgave rise, too frequently, alas! to a life of unhappiness. Now shewas aware that my own age did not exceed two and twenty; and I, onthe contrary, perhaps, was not aware that the years of my Eugenieextended very considerably beyond that sum.About all this there was a nobility of soul -- a dignity of candor-which delighted -- which enchanted me -- which eternally riveted mychains. I could scarcely restrain the excessive transport whichpossessed me."My sweetest Eugenie," I cried, "what is all this about which you arediscoursing? Your years surpass in some measure my own. But whatthen? The customs of the world are so many conventional follies. Tothose who love as ourselves, in what respect differs a year from anhour? I am twenty-two, you say, granted: indeed, you may as well callme, at once, twenty-three. Now you yourself, my dearest Eugenie, canhave numbered no more than -- can have numbered no more than -- nomore than -- than -- than -- than-"Here I paused for an instant, in the expectation that Madame Lalandewould interrupt me by supplying her true age. But a Frenchwoman isseldom direct, and has always, by way of answer to an embarrassingquery, some little practical reply of her own. In the presentinstance, Eugenie, who for a few moments past had seemed to besearching for something in her bosom, at length let fall upon thegrass a miniature, which I immediately picked up and presented toher."Keep it!" she said, with one of her most ravishing smiles. "Keep itfor my sake -- for the sake of her whom it too flatteringlyrepresents. Besides, upon the back of the trinket you may discover,perhaps, the very information you seem to desire. It is now, to besure, growing rather dark -- but you can examine it at your leisurein the morning. In the meantime, you shall be my escort hometo-night. My friends are about holding a little musical levee. I canpromise you, too, some good singing. We French are not nearly sopunctilious as you Americans, and I shall have no difficulty insmuggling you in, in the character of an old acquaintance."With this, she took my arm, and I attended her home. The mansion wasquite a fine one, and, I believe, furnished in good taste. Of thislatter point, however, I am scarcely qualified to judge; for it wasjust dark as we arrived; and in American mansions of the better sortlights seldom, during the heat of summer, make their appearance atthis, the most pleasant period of the day. In about an hour after myarrival, to be sure, a single shaded solar lamp was lit in theprincipal drawing-room; and this apartment, I could thus see, wasarranged with unusual good taste and even splendor; but two otherrooms of the suite, and in which the company chiefly assembled,remained, during the whole evening, in a very agreeable shadow. Thisis a well-conceived custom, giving the party at least a choice oflight or shade, and one which our friends over the water could not dobetter than immediately adopt.The evening thus spent was unquestionably the most delicious of mylife. Madame Lalande had not overrated the musical abilities of herfriends; and the singing I here heard I had never heard excelled inany private circle out of Vienna. The instrumental performers weremany and of superior talents. The vocalists were chiefly ladies, andno individual sang less than well. At length, upon a peremptory callfor "Madame Lalande," she arose at once, without affectation ordemur, from the chaise longue upon which she had sat by my side, and,accompanied by one or two gentlemen and her female friend of theopera, repaired to the piano in the main drawing-room. I would haveescorted her myself, but felt that, under the circumstances of myintroduction to the house, I had better remain unobserved where Iwas. I was thus deprived of the pleasure of seeing, although not ofhearing, her sing.The impression she produced upon the company seemed electrical butthe effect upon myself was something even more. I know not howadequately to describe it. It arose in part, no doubt, from thesentiment of love with which I was imbued; but chiefly from myconviction of the extreme sensibility of the singer. It is beyond thereach of art to endow either air or recitative with more impassionedexpression than was hers. Her utterance of the romance in Otello --the tone with which she gave the words "Sul mio sasso," in theCapuletti -- is ringing in my memory yet. Her lower tones wereabsolutely miraculous. Her voice embraced three complete octaves,extending from the contralto D to the D upper soprano, and, thoughsufficiently powerful to have filled the San Carlos, executed, withthe minutest precision, every difficulty of vocalcomposition-ascending and descending scales, cadences, or fiorituri.In the final of the Somnambula, she brought about a most remarkableeffect at the words:Ah! non guinge uman pensieroAl contento ond 'io son piena.Here, in imitation of Malibran, she modified the original phrase ofBellini, so as to let her voice descend to the tenor G, when, by arapid transition, she struck the G above the treble stave, springingover an interval of two octaves.Upon rising from the piano after these miracles of vocal execution,she resumed her seat by my side; when I expressed to her, in terms ofthe deepest enthusiasm, my delight at her performance. Of my surpriseI said nothing, and yet was I most unfeignedly surprised; for acertain feebleness, or rather a certain tremulous indecision of voicein ordinary conversation, had prepared me to anticipate that, insinging, she would not acquit herself with any remarkable ability.Our conversation was now long, earnest, uninterrupted, and totallyunreserved. She made me relate many of the earlier passages of mylife, and listened with breathless attention to every word of thenarrative. I concealed nothing -- felt that I had a right to concealnothing -- from her confiding affection. Encouraged by her candorupon the delicate point of her age, I entered, with perfectfrankness, not only into a detail of my many minor vices, but madefull confession of those moral and even of those physicalinfirmities, the disclosure of which, in demanding so much higher adegree of courage, is so much surer an evidence of love. I touchedupon my college indiscretions -- upon my extravagances -- upon mycarousals- upon my debts -- upon my flirtations. I even went so faras to speak of a slightly hectic cough with which, at one time, I hadbeen troubled -- of a chronic rheumatism -- of a twinge of hereditarygout- and, in conclusion, of the disagreeable and inconvenient, buthitherto carefully concealed, weakness of my eyes."Upon this latter point," said Madame Lalande, laughingly, "you havebeen surely injudicious in coming to confession; for, without theconfession, I take it for granted that no one would have accused youof the crime. By the by," she continued, "have you any recollection-"and here I fancied that a blush, even through the gloom of theapartment, became distinctly visible upon her cheek -- "have you anyrecollection, mon cher ami of this little ocular assistant, which nowdepends from my neck?"As she spoke she twirled in her fingers the identical doubleeye-glass which had so overwhelmed me with confusion at the opera."Full well -- alas! do I remember it," I exclaimed, pressingpassionately the delicate hand which offered the glasses for myinspection. They formed a complex and magnificent toy, richly chasedand filigreed, and gleaming with jewels, which, even in the deficientlight, I could not help perceiving were of high value."Eh bien! mon ami" she resumed with a certain empressment of mannerthat rather surprised me -- "Eh bien! mon ami, you have earnestlybesought of me a favor which you have been pleased to denominatepriceless. You have demanded of me my hand upon the morrow. Should Iyield to your entreaties -- and, I may add, to the pleadings of myown bosom -- would I not be entitled to demand of you a very -- avery little boon in return?""Name it!" I exclaimed with an energy that had nearly drawn upon usthe observation of the company, and restrained by their presencealone from throwing myself impetuously at her feet. "Name it, mybeloved, my Eugenie, my own! -- name it! -- but, alas! it is alreadyyielded ere named.""You shall conquer, then, mon ami," said she, "for the sake of theEugenie whom you love, this little weakness which you have at lastconfessed -- this weakness more moral than physical -- and which, letme assure you, is so unbecoming the nobility of your real nature --so inconsistent with the candor of your usual character -- and which,if permitted further control, will assuredly involve you, sooner orlater, in some very disagreeable scrape. You shall conquer, for mysake, this affectation which leads you, as you yourself acknowledge,to the tacit or implied denial of your infirmity of vision. For, thisinfirmity you virtually deny, in refusing to employ the customarymeans for its relief. You will understand me to say, then, that Iwish you to wear spectacles; -- ah, hush! -- you have alreadyconsented to wear them, for my sake. You shall accept the little toywhich I now hold in my hand, and which, though admirable as an aid tovision, is really of no very immense value as a gem. You perceivethat, by a trifling modification thus -- or thus -- it can be adaptedto the eyes in the form of spectacles, or worn in the waistcoatpocket as an eye-glass. It is in the former mode, however, andhabitually, that you have already consented to wear it for my sake."This request -- must I confess it? -- confused me in no littledegree. But the condition with which it was coupled renderedhesitation, of course, a matter altogether out of the question."It is done!" I cried, with all the enthusiasm that I could muster atthe moment. "It is done -- it is most cheerfully agreed. I sacrificeevery feeling for your sake. To-night I wear this dear eye-glass, asan eye-glass, and upon my heart; but with the earliest dawn of thatmorning which gives me the pleasure of calling you wife, I will placeit upon my -- upon my nose, -- and there wear it ever afterward, inthe less romantic, and less fashionable, but certainly in the moreserviceable, form which you desire."Our conversation now turned upon the details of our arrangements forthe morrow. Talbot, I learned from my betrothed, had just arrived intown. I was to see him at once, and procure a carriage. The soireewould scarcely break up before two; and by this hour the vehicle wasto be at the door, when, in the confusion occasioned by the departureof the company, Madame L. could easily enter it unobserved. We werethen to call at the house of a clergyman who would be in waiting;there be married, drop Talbot, and proceed on a short tour to theEast, leaving the fashionable world at home to make whatever commentsupon the matter it thought best.Having planned all this, I immediately took leave, and went in searchof Talbot, but, on the way, I could not refrain from stepping into ahotel, for the purpose of inspecting the miniature; and this I did bythe powerful aid of the glasses. The countenance was a surpassinglybeautiful one! Those large luminous eyes! -- that proud Grecian nose!-- those dark luxuriant curls! -- "Ah!" said I, exultingly to myself,"this is indeed the speaking image of my beloved!" I turned thereverse, and discovered the words -- "Eugenie Lalande -- agedtwenty-seven years and seven months."I found Talbot at home, and proceeded at once to acquaint him with mygood fortune. He professed excessive astonishment, of course, butcongratulated me most cordially, and proffered every assistance inhis power. In a word, we carried out our arrangement to the letter,and, at two in the morning, just ten minutes after the ceremony, Ifound myself in a close carriage with Madame Lalande -- with Mrs.Simpson, I should say -- and driving at a great rate out of town, ina direction Northeast by North, half-North.It had been determined for us by Talbot, that, as we were to be upall night, we should make our first stop at C--, a village abouttwenty miles from the city, and there get an early breakfast and somerepose, before proceeding upon our route. At four precisely,therefore, the carriage drew up at the door of the principal inn. Ihanded my adored wife out, and ordered breakfast forthwith. In themeantime we were shown into a small parlor, and sat down.It was now nearly if not altogether daylight; and, as I gazed,enraptured, at the angel by my side, the singular idea came, all atonce, into my head, that this was really the very first moment sincemy acquaintance with the celebrated loveliness of Madame Lalande,that I had enjoyed a near inspection of that loveliness by daylightat all."And now, mon ami," said she, taking my hand, and so interruptingthis train of reflection, "and now, mon cher ami, since we areindissolubly one -- since I have yielded to your passionateentreaties, and performed my portion of our agreement -- I presumeyou have not forgotten that you also have a little favor to bestow --a little promise which it is your intention to keep. Ah! let me see!Let me remember! Yes; full easily do I call to mind the precise wordsof the dear promise you made to Eugenie last night. Listen! You spokethus: 'It is done! -- it is most cheerfully agreed! I sacrifice everyfeeling for your sake. To-night I wear this dear eye-glass as aneye-glass, and upon my heart; but with the earliest dawn of thatmorning which gives me the privilege of calling you wife, I willplace it upon my -- upon my nose, -- and there wear it everafterward, in the less romantic, and less fashionable, but certainlyin the more serviceable, form which you desire.' These were the exactwords, my beloved husband, were they not?""They were," I said; "you have an excellent memory; and assuredly, mybeautiful Eugenie, there is no disposition on my part to evade theperformance of the trivial promise they imply. See! Behold! they arebecoming -- rather -- are they not?" And here, having arranged theglasses in the ordinary form of spectacles, I applied them gingerlyin their proper position; while Madame Simpson, adjusting her cap,and folding her arms, sat bolt upright in her chair, in a somewhatstiff and prim, and indeed, in a somewhat undignified position."Goodness gracious me!" I exclaimed, almost at the very instant thatthe rim of the spectacles had settled upon my nose -- "My goodnessgracious me! -- why, what can be the matter with these glasses?" andtaking them quickly off, I wiped them carefully with a silkhandkerchief, and adjusted them again.But if, in the first instance, there had occurred something whichoccasioned me surprise, in the second, this surprise became elevatedinto astonishment; and this astonishment was profound -- was extreme-indeed I may say it was horrific. What, in the name of everythinghideous, did this mean? Could I believe my eyes? -- could I? -- thatwas the question. Was that -- was that -- was that rouge? And werethose- and were those -- were those wrinkles, upon the visage ofEugenie Lalande? And oh! Jupiter, and every one of the gods andgoddesses, little and big! what -- what -- what -- what had become ofher teeth? I dashed the spectacles violently to the ground, and,leaping to my feet, stood erect in the middle of the floor,confronting Mrs. Simpson, with my arms set a-kimbo, and grinning andfoaming, but, at the same time, utterly speechless with terror andwith rage.Now I have already said that Madame Eugenie Lalande -- that is tosay, Simpson -- spoke the English language but very little betterthan she wrote it, and for this reason she very properly neverattempted to speak it upon ordinary occasions. But rage will carry alady to any extreme; and in the present care it carried Mrs. Simpsonto the very extraordinary extreme of attempting to hold aconversation in a tongue that she did not altogether understand."Vell, Monsieur," said she, after surveying me, in great apparentastonishment, for some moments -- "Vell, Monsieur? -- and vat den? --vat de matter now? Is it de dance of de Saint itusse dat you ave? Ifnot like me, vat for vy buy de pig in the poke?""You wretch!" said I, catching my breath -- "you -- you -- youvillainous old hag!""Ag? -- ole? -- me not so ver ole, after all! Me not one single daymore dan de eighty-doo.""Eighty-two!" I ejaculated, staggering to the wall -- "eighty-twohundred thousand baboons! The miniature said twenty-seven years andseven months!""To be sure! -- dat is so! -- ver true! but den de portraite has beentake for dese fifty-five year. Ven I go marry my segonde usbande,Monsieur Lalande, at dat time I had de portraite take for my daughterby my first usbande, Monsieur Moissart!""Moissart!" said I."Yes, Moissart," said she, mimicking my pronunciation, which, tospeak the truth, was none of the best, -- "and vat den? Vat you knowabout de Moissart?""Nothing, you old fright! -- I know nothing about him at all; only Ihad an ancestor of that name, once upon a time.""Dat name! and vat you ave for say to dat name? 'Tis ver goot name;and so is Voissart -- dat is ver goot name too. My daughter,Mademoiselle Moissart, she marry von Monsieur Voissart, -- and dename is bot ver respectaable name.""Moissart?" I exclaimed, "and Voissart! Why, what is it you mean?""Vat I mean? -- I mean Moissart and Voissart; and for de matter ofdat, I mean Croissart and Froisart, too, if I only tink proper tomean it. My daughter's daughter, Mademoiselle Voissart, she marry vonMonsieur Croissart, and den again, my daughter's grande daughter,Mademoiselle Croissart, she marry von Monsieur Froissart; and Isuppose you say dat dat is not von ver respectaable name.-""Froissart!" said I, beginning to faint, "why, surely you don't sayMoissart, and Voissart, and Croissart, and Froissart?""Yes," she replied, leaning fully back in her chair, and stretchingout her lower limbs at great length; "yes, Moissart, and Voissart,and Croissart, and Froissart. But Monsieur Froissart, he vas von verbig vat you call fool -- he vas von ver great big donce like yourself-- for he lef la belle France for come to dis stupide Amerique- andven he get here he went and ave von ver stupide, von ver, ver stupidesonn, so I hear, dough I not yet av ad de plaisir to meet vid him --neither me nor my companion, de Madame Stephanie Lalande. He is namede Napoleon Bonaparte Froissart, and I suppose you say dat dat, too,is not von ver respectable name."Either the length or the nature of this speech, had the effect ofworking up Mrs. Simpson into a very extraordinary passion indeed; andas she made an end of it, with great labor, she lumped up from herchair like somebody bewitched, dropping upon the floor an entireuniverse of bustle as she lumped. Once upon her feet, she gnashed hergums, brandished her arms, rolled up her sleeves, shook her fist inmy face, and concluded the performance by tearing the cap from herhead, and with it an immense wig of the most valuable and beautifulblack hair, the whole of which she dashed upon the ground with ayell, and there trammpled and danced a fandango upon it, in anabsolute ecstasy and agony of rage.Meantime I sank aghast into the chair which she had vacated."Moissart and Voissart!" I repeated, thoughtfully, as she cut one ofher pigeon-wings, and "Croissart and Froissart!" as she completedanother -- "Moissart and Voissart and Croissart and NapoleonBonaparte Froissart! -- why, you ineffable old serpent, that's me --that's me -- d'ye hear? that's me" -- here I screamed at the top ofmy voice -- "that's me-e-e! I am Napoleon Bonaparte Froissart! and ifI havn't married my great, great, grandmother, I wish I may beeverlastingly confounded!"Madame Eugenie Lalande, quasi Simpson -- formerly Moissart -- was, insober fact, my great, great, grandmother. In her youth she had beenbeautiful, and even at eighty-two, retained the majestic height, thesculptural contour of head, the fine eyes and the Grecian nose of hergirlhood. By the aid of these, of pearl-powder, of rouge, of falsehair, false teeth, and false tournure, as well as of the most skilfulmodistes of Paris, she contrived to hold a respectable footing amongthe beauties en peu passees of the French metropolis. In thisrespect, indeed, she might have been regarded as little less than theequal of the celebrated Ninon De L'Enclos.She was immensely wealthy, and being left, for the second time, awidow without children, she bethought herself of my existence inAmerica, and for the purpose of making me her heir, paid a visit tothe United States, in company with a distant and exceedingly lovelyrelative of her second husband's -- a Madame Stephanie Lalande.At the opera, my great, great, grandmother's attention was arrestedby my notice; and, upon surveying me through her eye-glass, she wasstruck with a certain family resemblance to herself. Thus interested,and knowing that the heir she sought was actually in the city, shemade inquiries of her party respecting me. The gentleman who attendedher knew my person, and told her who I was. The information thusobtained induced her to renew her scrutiny; and this scrutiny it waswhich so emboldened me that I behaved in the absurd manner alreadydetailed. She returned my bow, however, under the impression that, bysome odd accident, I had discovered her identity. When, deceived bymy weakness of vision, and the arts of the toilet, in respect to theage and charms of the strange lady, I demanded so enthusiastically ofTalbot who she was, he concluded that I meant the younger beauty, asa matter of course, and so informed me, with perfect truth, that shewas "the celebrated widow, Madame Lalande."In the street, next morning, my great, great, grandmother encounteredTalbot, an old Parisian acquaintance; and the conversation, verynaturally turned upon myself. My deficiencies of vision were thenexplained; for these were notorious, although I was entirely ignorantof their notoriety, and my good old relative discovered, much to herchagrin, that she had been deceived in supposing me aware of heridentity, and that I had been merely making a fool of myself inmaking open love, in a theatre, to an old woman unknown. By way ofpunishing me for this imprudence, she concocted with Talbot a plot.He purposely kept out of my way to avoid giving me the introduction.My street inquiries about "the lovely widow, Madame Lalande," weresupposed to refer to the younger lady, of course, and thus theconversation with the three gentlemen whom I encountered shortlyafter leaving Talbot's hotel will be easily explained, as also theirallusion to Ninon De L'Enclos. I had no opportunity of seeing MadameLalande closely during daylight; and, at her musical soiree, my sillyweakness in refusing the aid of glasses effectually prevented me frommaking a discovery of her age. When "Madame Lalande" was called uponto sing, the younger lady was intended; and it was she who arose toobey the call; my great, great, grandmother, to further thedeception, arising at the same moment and accompanying her to thepiano in the main drawing-room. Had I decided upon escorting herthither, it had been her design to suggest the propriety of myremaining where I was; but my own prudential views rendered thisunnecessary. The songs which I so much admired, and which soconfirmed my impression of the youth of my mistress, were executed byMadame Stephanie Lalande. The eyeglass was presented by way of addinga reproof to the hoax -- a sting to the epigram of the deception. Itspresentation afforded an opportunity for the lecture upon affectationwith which I was so especially edified. It is almost superfluous toadd that the glasses of the instrument, as worn by the old lady, hadbeen exchanged by her for a pair better adapted to my years. Theysuited me, in fact, to a T.The clergyman, who merely pretended to tie the fatal knot, was a booncompanion of Talbot's, and no priest. He was an excellent "whip,"however; and having doffed his cassock to put on a great-coat, hedrove the hack which conveyed the "happy couple" out of town. Talbottook a seat at his side. The two scoundrels were thus "in at thedeath," and through a half-open window of the back parlor of the inn,amused themselves in grinning at the denouement of the drama. Ibelieve I shall be forced to call them both out.Nevertheless, I am not the husband of my great, great, grandmother;and this is a reflection which affords me infinite relief, -- but Iam the husband of Madame Lalande -- of Madame Stephanie Lalande --with whom my good old relative, besides making me her sole heir whenshe dies -- if she ever does -- has been at the trouble of concoctingme a match. In conclusion: I am done forever with billets doux and amnever to be met without SPECTACLES.
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