My Days of Adventure | Page 9

to sketch those gowns (nowadays one would
simply obtain photographs), I took down from la première, or
sometimes from Worth himself, full particulars respecting materials
and styles, in order that the descriptive letterpress, which was to
accompany the illustration, might be correct.
In this wise I served my apprenticeship to journalism. My father
naturally revised my work. The first article, all my own, which
appeared in print was one on that notorious theatrical institution, the
Claque. I sent it to Once a Week, which E. S. Dallas then edited, and
knowing that he was well acquainted with my father, and feeling very
diffident respecting the merits of what I had written, I assumed a nom
de plume ("Charles Ludhurst") for the occasion, Needless to say that I
was delighted when I saw the article in print, and yet more so when I
received for it a couple of guineas, which I speedily expended on
gloves, neckties, and a walking-stick. Here let me say that we were
rather swagger young fellows at Bonaparte. We did not have to wear
hideous ill-fitting uniforms like other Lycéens, but endeavoured to
present a very smart appearance. Thus we made it a practice to wear

gloves and to carry walking-sticks or canes on our way to or from the
Lycée. I even improved on that by buying "button-holes" at the
flower-market beside the Madeleine, and this idea "catching on," as the
phrase goes, quite a commotion occurred one morning when virtually
half my classmates were found wearing flowers--for it happened to be
La Saint Henri, the fête-day of the Count de Chambord, and both our
Proviseur and our professor imagined that this was, on our part, a
seditious Legitimist demonstration. There were, however, very few
Legitimists among us, though Orleanists and Republicans were
numerous.
I have mentioned that my first article was on the Claque, that
organisation established to encourage applause in theatres, it being held
that the Parisian spectator required to be roused by some such method.
Brossard having introduced me to the sous-chef of the Claque at the
Opéra Comique, I often obtained admission to that house as a claqueur.
I even went to a few other theatres in the same capacity. Further,
Brossard knew sundry authors and journalists, and took me to the Café
de Suède and the Café de Madrid, where I saw and heard some of the
celebrities of the day. I can still picture the great Dumas, loud of voice
and exuberant in gesture whilst holding forth to a band of young
"spongers," on whom he was spending his last napoleons. I can also see
Gambetta--young, slim, black-haired and bearded, with a full sensual
underlip--seated at the same table as Delescluze, whose hair and beard,
once red, had become a dingy white, whose figure was emaciated and
angular, and whose yellowish, wrinkled face seemed to betoken that he
was possessed by some fixed idea. What that idea was, the Commune
subsequently showed. Again, I can see Henri Rochefort and Gustave
Flourens together: the former straight and sinewy, with a great tuft of
very dark curly hair, flashing eyes and high and prominent cheekbones;
while the latter, tall and bald, with long moustaches and a flowing
beard, gazed at you in an eager imperious way, as if he were about to
issue some command.
Other men who helped to overthrow the Empire also became known to
me. My father, whilst engaged in some costly litigation respecting a
large castellated house which he had leased at Le Vésinet, secured Jules

Favre as his advocate, and on various occasions I went with him to
Favre's residence. Here let me say that my father, in spite of all his
interest in French literature, did not know the language. He could
scarcely express himself in it, and thus he always made it a practice to
have one of his sons with him, we having inherited our mother's
linguistic gifts. Favre's command of language was great, but his
eloquence was by no means rousing, and I well remember that when he
pleaded for my father, the three judges of the Appeal Court composed
themselves to sleep, and did not awaken until the counsel opposed to us
started banging his fist and shouting in thunderous tones. Naturally
enough, as the judges never heard our side of the case, but only our
adversary's, they decided against us.
Some retrenchment then became necessary on my father's part, and he
sent my step-mother, her children and my brother Arthur, to Saint
Servan in Brittany, where he rented a house which was called "La
petite Amélia," after George III's daughter of that name, who, during
some interval of peace between France and Great Britain, went to stay
at Saint Servan for the benefit of her health. The majority of our family
having