The security, and even the existence, of the parliament of Paris, depending entirely on the pleasure of the King, and having no other weapons, offensive or defensive, but justice, argument, and reason, their fate might have been foreseen—the usual fate of those who have no other artillery to oppose to power:—The members were disgraced, and the parliament abolished. The measure was considered as violent; the exiles were regarded as martyrs; the people were astonished and grieved. At length, recovering from their surprise, they dissipated their sorrow, as they do on all occasions of great calamity,—by some very merry songs.
LETTER XV.
Paris.
My friend F—— called on me a few days since, and as soon as he understood that I had no particular engagement, he insisted that I should drive somewhere into the country, dine tête-à-tête with him, and return in time for the play.
When we had drove a few miles I perceived a genteel-looking young fellow, dressed in an old uniform. He sat under a tree, on the grass, at a little distance from the road, and amused himself by playing on the violin. As we came nearer we perceived he had a wooden leg, part of which lay in fragments by his side.
What do you there, soldier? said the Marquis.—I am on my way home to my own village, mon officier, said the soldier.—But, my poor friend, resumed the Marquis, you will be a furious long time before you arrive at your journey’s end, if you have no other carriage besides these, pointing at the fragments of his wooden leg.—I wait for my equipage and all my suite, said the soldier; and I am greatly mistaken if I do not see them this moment coming down the hill.
We saw a kind of cart, drawn by one horse, in which was a woman, and a peasant who drove the horse.—While they drew near, the soldier told us he had been wounded in Corsica—that his leg had been cut off—that before setting out on that expedition, he had been contracted to a young woman in the neighbourhood—that the marriage had been postponed till his return;—but when he appeared with a wooden leg, that all the girl’s relations had opposed the match.—The girl’s mother, who was her only surviving parent, when he began his courtship, had always been his friend; but she had died while he was abroad.—The young woman herself, however, remained constant in her affections, received him with open arms, and had agreed to leave her relations, and accompany him to Paris, from whence they intended to set out in the diligence to the town where he was born, and where his father still lived:—That on the way to Paris his wooden leg had snapped; which had obliged his mistress to leave him, and go to the next village in quest of a cart to carry him thither, where he would remain till such time as the carpenter should renew his leg.—C’est un malheur, mon officier, concluded the soldier, qui sera bientôt réparé—et voici mon amie!—