This may, to a great extent, have been true then—and is true to-day—manifestly, but no lover of the beautiful ought to condemn a noisome flower if but its buds were beautiful, and Paris—the Paris of the Restoration, the Empire, or the Republic—is none the worse in the eyes of the world because of the iniquities which exist in every large centre of population, where creeds and intellects of all shades and capacities are herded together.
The French novelist, it is true, can be very sordid and banal, but he can be as childlike and bland as an unsophisticated young girl—when he has a mind to.
Dumas’ novels were not lacking in vigour, valour, or action, and he wrote mostly of romantic times; so Michelet could not have referred to him. Perhaps he had the “Mysteries of Paris” or “The Wandering Jew” in mind, whose author certainly did give full measure of sordid detail; but then, Sue has been accused before now as not presenting a strictly truthful picture.
So much for the presentation of the tableaux. But what about the actual condition of the people at the time?
Michelet’s interest in Europe was centred on France and confined to le peuple; a term in which he ofttimes included the bourgeois, as well he might, though he more often regarded those who worked with their hands. He repeatedly says: “I myself have been one of those workmen, and, although I have risen to a different class, I retain the sympathies of my early conditions.”
Michelet’s judgment was quite independent and original when he compared the different classes; and he had a decided preference for that section which cultivates the soil, though by no means did he neglect those engaged in trade and manufacture. The ouvrier industriel was as much entitled to respect as the labourer in the fields, or even the small tenant-farmer. He regretted, of course, the competition which turned industrialisme into a cut-throat policy. He furthermore had this to say concerning foreign trade:
“Alsace and Lyons have conquered art and science to achieve beauty for others.... The ‘fairy of Paris’ (the modiste) meets, from minute to minute, the most unexpected flights of fancy—and she or he does to-day, be it recalled. Les étrangers come in spite of themselves, and they buy of her (France); ils achètent—but what?—patterns, and then go basely home and copy them, to the loss, but to the glory, of France.
“The Englishman or the German buys a few pieces of goods at Paris or Lyons; just as in letters France writes and Belgium sells.”
On the whole, Michelet thought that the population was more successful in tilling the soil than in the marts of the world; and there is this to be said, there is no question but what France is a self-contained country, though its arts have gone forth into the world and influenced all nations.
Paris is, ever has been, and proudly—perhaps rightly—thinks that it ever will be, the artistic capital of the world.