1830.] Pelersburgh, Moscow, and the Provinces. 571 



of his fair audience. ' Ladies/ said he, < 'tis all your own fault : you 

 requested me to terrify you a little, and I like to make myself agreeable.' " 



The author gallantly takes up the cudgels in defence of the Cossacks, 

 who, he considerately assures us, were by no means such fee-faw-fum 

 guests as might be imagined 



" In 1814, a Cossack general arrived in a little village, at the head of eight 

 hundred Calmucks. The savage air of these troops, their hair floating over 

 their eyes, their long beards descending to their waists, the sorry appear- 

 ance of their steeds, which look worse than they are, these various circum- 

 stances contributed not a little to the alarm of the peasantry. The Russian 

 general perceived that, in the house on which he was billeted, his hosts 

 eagerly withdrew their young children from his sight. Mortified by their 

 absurd precautions, he determined to retaliate ; and when the servant 

 requested to know what he would have for supper, ' Bring me a couple of 

 children a la broche,' said the general, e but let them be plump and tender.' 

 Then, accosting his hosts with gaiety and politeness, f Excuse the jest,' said 

 he, ' the idea of which has been inspired by your fantastic terrors. Let me 

 assure you that a beard is not an infallible symptom of ferocity. I have seen 

 many a smooth visage less worthy to be trusted than those of my rough Cal- 

 mucks. Recollect your national proverb : I'habit ne fait pas le moine.' " 



The devotion of Napoleon's partizans has formed the subject of 

 various anecdotes, true or false. The following gives a ludicrous sample 

 of sturdy uncompromising Bonaparteism: 



" A courtier of the imperial regime, conversing with some ladies who obsti- 

 nately refused to share his admiration for the emperor, expressed his over- 

 flowing zeal in rather a novel manner. ' Ladies,' said he, ' I have such per- 

 fect confidence in the emperor, that were he to call me knave, I might at first 

 humbly remonstrate : but were he a second time to say, with an air of con- 

 viction, ' I assure thee, thou art a knave !' As I am a man of honour, I would 

 take his majesty's word for it !' " 



" Lately, at a dinner party, an Englishman had the misfortune to spill a 

 bottle of wine on the table, which was half covered with the purple stream. 

 The Amphytrion having petulantly demanded if that mode was customary in 

 England ' No,' replied the Englishman, with phlegm ; ' but when such an 

 accident does happen, it is customary to let it pass without remark.'" 



" Several of Catherine's generals having been repulsed and beaten by the 

 Turks, the empress, who was superior to childish considerations of resent- 

 ment, resolved to entrust the command to Count Romantzoff, who had been 

 for some time in disgrace. For that purpose, Catherine forwarded to the 

 veteran a letter, couched in the following terms : ' Count RomaritzofF, I 

 know that you dislike me ; but you are a Russian, and consequently must 

 desire to combat the enemies of your country. Preserve your hatred to me, 

 if it be necessary for the satisfaction of your heart; but conquer the Turks. 

 I give you the command of my army.' The letter was accompanied by 20,000 

 roubles, for the expenses of the general's military equipments. Romantzoff 

 triumphed over the Turks ; and, on his return from the campaign, the Czarine, 

 dressed in a military uniform, proceeded to meet him. The general arrived, 

 escorted by his staff. Catherine alighted, and advancing to Romantzoff, 

 forbade him to dismount. ' General,' said she, f 'tis my place to make the 

 first advances to the heroic defender of my country.' Romantzoff burst into 

 tears, threw himself at his sovereign's feet, and ever afterwards was one of 

 Catherine's most zealous partizans." 



For the present we take leave of M. Dupre St. Maure. Fastidious 

 criticism might perhaps object that he draws too liberally on his stores 

 of anecdote. This, however, if it be a fault, is one inherent in the cha- 

 racter of the French literature of the present day. 



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