ne is enchained as by a marvelous curiosity, a sweet,
strange enigma. We know not if these are the refined manners of a French
marquis or the straightforward simplicity of an American citizen. All
that is best in the _ancien regime_, the chivalresque courtesy and tact,
are here wondrously fused with what is best in the modern _bourgeoisie_,
love of equality, simplicity, and honesty. Nothing is more interesting
than when mention is made, in the Chamber, of the first days of the
Revolution, and some one in _doctrinaire_ fashion tears some historical
fact from its true connection and turns it to his own account in speech.
Then Lafayette destroys with a few words the erroneous deduction by
illustrating or correcting the true sense of such an event by citing the
circumstances relating to it. Even Thiers must in such a case strike
sail, and the great historiographer of the Revolution bows before the
outburst of its great and living monument, General Lafayette.

There sits in the Chamber, just before the tribune a very old man, with
long silvery hair falling over his black clothing. His body is girted
with a very broad tricolored scarf; he is the old messenger who has
always filled that office in the Chamber since the beginning of the
Revolution, and who in this post has witnessed the momentous events of
the world's history from the days of the first National Assembly till
the _juste milieu_. I am told that he often speaks of Robespierre, whom
he calls _le bon Monsieur Robespierre_. During the Restoration the old
man suffered from colic, but since he has wound the tricolored scarf
round his waist he finds himself well again. His only trouble now, in
the dull and lazy times of the _juste milieu_, is drowsiness. I once
even saw him fall asleep while Mauguin was speaking. Indeed, the man
has, doubtless, in his time heard better than Mauguin, who is, however,
one of the best orators of the Opposition, though he is not found to be
very startling or effective by one _qui a beaucoup connu ce bon Monsieur
de Robespierre_. But when Lafayette speaks, then the old messenger
awakes from his twilight drowsiness, he seems to be aroused like an old
war-horse of hussars when he hears the sound of a trumpet--there rise
within him sweet memories of youth, and he nods delightedly with his
silver-white head.

* * * * *

THE ROMANTIC SCHOOL[58] (1833-35)

BY HEINRICH HEINE

TRANSLATED BY CHARLES GODFREY L