Produced by David Widger
By Edward Bulwer-Lytton
It is the first week in the month of May, 1870. Celebrities are of rapidgrowth in the salons of Paris. Gustave Rameau has gained the positionfor which he sighed. The journal he edits has increased its hold on thepublic, and his share of the profits has been liberally augmented by thesecret proprietor. Rameau is acknowledged as a power in literarycircles. And as critics belonging to the same clique praise each otherin Paris, whatever they may do in communities more rigidly virtuous, hispoetry has been declared by authorities in the press to be superior tothat of Alfred de Musset in vigour—to that of Victor Hugo in refinement;neither of which assertions would much, perhaps, shock a cultivatedunderstanding.
It is true that it (Gustave's poetry) has not gained a wide audienceamong the public. But with regard to poetry nowadays, there are plentyof persons who say as Dr. Johnson said of the verse of Spratt, "I wouldrather praise it than read."
At all events, Rameau was courted in gay and brilliant circles, and,following the general example of French litterateurs in fashion, livedwell up to the income he received, had a delightful bachelor's apartment,furnished with artistic effect, spent largely on the adornment of hisperson, kept a coupe, and entertained profusely at the cafe Anglais andthe Maison Doree. A reputation that inspired a graver and more unquietinterest had been created by the Vicomte de Mauleon. Recent articles inthe Sens Commun, written under the name of Pierre Firmin on thediscussions on the vexed question of the plebiscite, had given umbrage tothe Government, and Rameau had received an intimation that he, as editor,was responsible for the compositions of the contributors to the journalhe edited; and that though, so long as Pierre Firmin had kept his causticspirit within proper bounds, the Government had winked at the evasion ofthe law which required every political article in a journal to be signedby the real name of its author, it could do so no longer. Pierre Firminwas apparently a nom de plume; if not, his identity must be proved, orRameau would pay the penalty which his contributor seemed bent onincurring.
Rameau, much alarmed for the journal that might be suspended, and forhimself who might be imprisoned, conveyed this information through thepublisher to his correspondent Pierre Firmin, and received the next dayan article signed Victor de Mauleon, in which the writer proclaimedhimself to be one and the same with Pierre Firmin, and, taking a yetbolder tone than he had before assumed, dared the Government to attemptlegal measures against him. The Government was prudent enough todisregard that haughty bravado, but Victor de Mauleon rose at once intopolitical importance. He had already in his real name and his quiet wayestablished a popular and respectable place in Parisian society. But ifthis revelation created him enemies whom he had not before provoked, hewas now sufficiently acquitted, by tacit consent, of the sins formerlylaid to his charge, to disdain the assaults of party wrath. His oldreputation for personal courage and skill in sword and pistol served,indeed, to protect him from such charges as a Parisian journalist doesnot reply to with his pen. If he created some enemies, he created manymore friends, or, at least, partisans and admirers. He only needed fineand imprisonment to become a popular hero.
A few days after be had