Volume 11 — IX TIVOLI

A lovely spot, that Tivoli Garden! When I stepped within its gates, it seemed to me that I entered one of those enchanted sojourns so splendidly described in the Thousand and One Nights. The music, the illuminations, the sports of all sorts, the fireworks—everything combined to dazzle the eyes and excite the imagination. What a pity it seemed when a vulgar face and a fishwoman’s costume marred the beauty of the picture and reminded me that I was in a public garden, where any decently dressed person could enter on payment of three francs twelve sous!

Before I had taken twenty steps in the garden, I had seen many things. What beautiful avenues! How those garlands of fire burst on the sight! Yonder, people gathered in crowds, gazed at one another, scrutinized costumes, and sought acquaintances: it was the Boulevard de Gand of Tivoli. Farther on, the lights became less frequent; an occasional lamp guided your steps without betraying you. The couples were more widely scattered; they no longer went about to exhibit themselves; some, indeed, seemed to try to evade observation, to desire darkness and mystery. Happy thickets! how often have you sheltered love and pleasure! how many kisses have been given and received under cover of your dense foliage! Ah! if you could speak!—But I seemed to hear voices close at hand; I had thoughtlessly turned my steps in the direction of those solitary thickets, where I, being alone, had nothing to hope for. As I circled a clump of shrubs, I saw something white on the grass; a gentleman and a lady were there, discussing some very weighty and secret matter no doubt, for I thought that they were whispering to each other. But my presence disturbed them; the lady, with a little shriek, pushed her companion away; whereupon I walked quickly in another direction. What pleasure can there be in interfering with that of other people?

I determined to go back to the crowd, to leave those thickets, where it almost angered me to be alone. Once more I was in the bright light. I heard the rumbling of cars; I was near the mountains which all the women ascend—the grande dame and the working girl, the milliner and the modest laundress, the kept woman and the little schoolgirl. What delight they all seem to take in the descent! And yet, the resistance of the air disarranges their hair, loosens their hats, and blows their curls all about; but they submit to that sacrifice for the pleasure of going like the wind for twenty seconds. Keen enjoyment is depicted on all the faces in the cars; only an occasional Englishman retains his gravity during the trip.

I was alone, so I did not make the ascent; it seemed to me that to enjoy that pastime you must be seated beside a woman whom you like; then you may put your arm about a slender waist and press a shapely figure; as you fly down the incline, you may venture much; for you are sure of not being repulsed, your companion being so bewildered by the rapidity of the descent that she has not time to be angry.

All pleasures turn to the advantage of love. What pleasure is not increased twofold by the presence of the loved one? In the dance, on the cars, under the thickets, there must be two to be happy; without a woman, how can one abandon one’s self to the most delicious sensations, the most loving outpourings of the heart? Only through her do we know that we have a heart. But enough of these ideas, to which the garden gave rise! I walked across several squares, attracted by music; it was a singer. Ah! I did not stop there; if I had, Tivoli would have ceased to be a place of enchantment.

Suddenly my eyes fell upon a number of armchairs swinging in the air and travelling round and round, with ladies seated in them; it was a Russian swing. Why did all the men walk in that direction and stand, with their noses in the air and a smile on their faces, watching the chairs turn? Ah! I saw that the wind lifted the ladies’ skirts more or less, so that one could catch a glimpse of a leg and sometimes of a knee. The game seemed to amuse the performers as much as the spectators. The ladies apparently did not realize what it was that absorbed the attention of the gentlemen, and did not hear the wanton jests in which most of the latter indulged; for they continued to fly through the air, laughing like madcaps. But the machine stopped; it was time to alight. I remained, in order to see the ladies at closer quarters. Mon Dieu! messieurs, you surely did not need to give yourselves a crick in the neck to catch a glimpse of an ankle! So far as I could judge, you might have obtained a sight of a great deal more, without much trouble. I quitted the Russian swing for Bobèche’s performance, and found an enormous crowd in front of the stage. I looked about in vain for a chair; I could not find one that was unoccupied. So I was compelled to remain standing. I sidled in among the elect, and I saw something, at all events, even if I did not see Bobèche; I saw the evident enjoyment of all the young men who, like myself, were standing. And yet they could not see anything; but they were with ladies who stood on chairs, and they supported them, to guard against accident; their arms were passed around the ladies’ skirts, and the ladies leaned on their shoulders. I could understand how pleasant that must be. But I saw one lady who seemed on the point of falling. Why did nobody support her? Because she was a matron. But a becurled and befrizzled young woman, who would have been pretty had not her costume been so absurd for a public garden, hurried to the elderly lady’s side.

“Wait, mamma,” she said; “I’ll put my chair behind yours, and then you can lean on me; I’ll hold you up.”

The mother consented to this arrangement, and the young woman remounted her chair, which she placed behind her mamma’s; but I noticed that she had somebody to support her; a tall, light-haired youngster kept his eyes on her all the time; he stationed himself close beside her, looked at her, and made signs to her. The young woman looked at nothing but Bobèche; and as she explained the performance to her mother, she took a little note from her glove and dropped it into the young man’s hand, without the slightest confusion or affectation, and without interrupting her conversation. Really, our young ladies display a fascinating grace in all that they do; the world is progressing toward perfection.

The tall youth crumpled the note in his hand; he longed to read it at once, but he dared not. I was amused by his impatience; I was curious to see what he would do. But an elderly couple arrived, dragging their chairs after them; the woman planted herself directly in front of me, almost resting against my face, while her husband deprived me of what little view I had by standing beside her.

I could endure it no longer; to induce me to remain with my head on a level with the waists of all that multitude, I felt that something deeply interesting was necessary. I was not at all desirous to maintain my juxtaposition to the enormous circumference which obscured my vision. So I extricated myself, not without difficulty, from the chairs and legs and dresses that surrounded me. When I was outside the circle, I stopped to breathe a bit; it is good to inhale the fresh air when one has seen Bobèche, even out of doors.

I followed a noble avenue of lindens which led to the large tract of grass set aside for swings and seesaws and blind-man’s-buff and the Egyptian bird, and a thousand other things, of which the prettiest are those one does not see. I heard ladies’ voices imploring their escorts not to go so fast; while the latter, to display their strength and skill, made all the play they could with their loins and knees, at the risk of making their companions in the swings swoon from fright: that was a new way to make one’s self agreeable, I thought.

I heard the voice of lamentation near by. It was a small boy of twelve or thirteen years, who wanted to seesaw with a tall lout of eighteen at least. No sooner had the latter gone to the ground on his end of the plank which served as a tilt, than the little fellow at the other end received a violent shock that threw him over the little iron bar behind which stood those awaiting their turn. The poor child fell; luckily, it was on the soft turf, and he was not hurt; but he limped away, while the tall zany plumed himself on the shaking-up he had given him. A very pretty game is this seesawing; but I should advise those who indulge in it to have the ground mattressed; for I know by experience that falls are frequent and dangerous.

But what was that report? It brought me involuntarily to a standstill. Was I near a display of fireworks? No; the Egyptian bird had just been set off. How proud the man seemed who had done the trick! To be sure, it was only the eleventh time that he had fired. A stout party seized the wire. I recognized him: it was Raymond. I should have been astonished not to fall in with him, for the fellow was everywhere.

“I’ll bet,” he said in a bantering tone to the man who had just fired, taking pains to raise his voice in order to attract attention, “I’ll bet, my dear fellow [he knows everybody], that I release the spring in three shots.”

“I’ll bet you don’t; it isn’t so easy as you seem to think.”

“Easy! easy! if it was easy, there’d be no merit in it. I have an absolutely accurate eye. Come, I’ll bet you an ice.”

“That you do it in three trials?”

“Yes; in fact, I’m certain that I shan’t have to try three times.”

“I’ll take your bet.”

“All right; now you’ll see.”

I halted, feeling perfectly certain, for my part, that my neighbor would make a fool of himself in some way. The man who managed the machine was reloading the iron box to which the spring was attached.

“Get out of the way!” cried Raymond, impatient to display his skill, and raising the bird as high in the air as his arms allowed.

The box was closed and the man stepped aside; Raymond threw the bird with such accuracy that the piece of iron, after following a zigzag course, struck six inches from the target. My neighbor was not discouraged, but threw the bird again—with no better success.

“It’s all out of equilibrium,” he cried; “the wire’s crooked, it isn’t my fault.”

“This is your last shot.”

“Oh! this one will do the business.”

Raymond took aim for at least three minutes; at last the bird flew through the air. It finished its flight; but there was no report.

“I’ve won! I’ve won!” cried Raymond’s adversary; “you owe me an ice.”

“Oh! I don’t know whether you’ve won or not; that depends. I am sure that the bird’s beak moved the spring, and the reason it didn’t go off must be that the powder’s damp.”

“You’re trying to crawl out of it! you’ve lost, and you owe me an ice!”

“Well! I demand my revenge!”

“Oh! that’s fair enough; I agree. That will make two ices instead of one.”

“We’ll see about that. I say, my man, just go and overhaul the spring; I’m sure there’s something out of order that prevented the thing from going off.”

To please his customer, the man opened the box and examined it. Meanwhile, my neighbor had taken the bird; and, annoyed at having lost his first bet, he scrutinized the iron beak, measured it with his eye, and tried to make sure that the bird was perfectly balanced, lifting it carefully by the two wings.

“I see what the matter is, I see what it is,” he said confidently; “if I had examined it like this before, I shouldn’t have missed a shot. You must hold the bird very lightly, with the tips of your fingers, and throw it without any jerk.”

As he spoke, Monsieur Raymond threw the bird, which struck the head of the unfortunate man who was looking to see if the spring was in perfect order. The poor man was seriously wounded; he fell to the ground with horrible yells, and everybody ran toward him. Monsieur Raymond took advantage of the confusion to escape. He forced a passage through the crowd, pushing everybody aside with his arms and elbows; he leaped over chairs, ran like a madman through the groups seated on the grass, tripped over the legs of a petite-maîtresse who was chatting unconcernedly with a young officer, fell heavily upon her, and with his stomach crushed a bust that luckily was made of tulle. The lady shrieked, in order to make people think that it was her flesh that was flattened out; and the officer sprang to his feet, in a rage at the disappearance of charms which he had believed to be genuine. He seized a chair and pursued Raymond, who was already far away; for fear lent him wings.

I amused myself by following my neighbor, who had lost his hat in the scuffle. I saw him running on and getting into fresh difficulty every minute; he ran into a swing, collided with the wooden horses, overturned two girls who were dancing in a little open space, knocked over all the tubs of shrubs that came in his way, and finally, to elude his pursuers, rushed out into the main avenue, hoping to lose himself in the crowd. But as he passed under a garland of colored lanterns, which was not far enough from the ground and hung down a little at the sides, Monsieur Raymond, trying to outstrip everybody, became entangled in the illuminations; the rope broke, and all the little colored lanterns fell on the promenaders, who, in an instant, were smeared with oil. The ladies uttered heartrending shrieks when they saw their toques, their feathers, and their gowns dripping with lamp oil; nor were the young men less enraged, for their coats and waistcoats and frills were all ruined, and diffused an execrable odor. Once more Raymond found himself the object of general animadversion, and the poor devil, panting for breath, was obliged to continue his flight. He leaped over a hedge, in order to get away from the avenue more quickly; he did not know where to go; and he finally entered the enclosure set apart for the fireworks, despite the shouts of an old pensioner who told him that he could not go there. He rushed through the bombs, mortars, rockets, pinwheels, and Roman candles, while the pensioner shouted for the gendarmes to come to arrest a man who was smashing everything he saw and seemed determined to prevent the pyrotechnic display that was in preparation. The police arrived; Raymond had barely time to hurl himself through a transparency, which he burst with his head; at last he disappeared. Tranquillity was restored; the damage that my neighbor had done was repaired as far as possible; and I returned toward the centre of activity, laughing at Raymond’s mishaps, which had afforded me abundant satisfaction for his petty mischief-making that morning.

“Faith!” I said to myself, as I walked toward the dancing enclosure; “if I had come to Tivoli for no other purpose than to witness Raymond’s prowess, my evening would have been a great success. But I am in a lucky vein; perhaps fate has other meetings in store for me.”

I paused near a juggler’s booth; the crowd was as large as in front of Bobèche’s; but there was somewhat less confusion. Most of the spectators were seated, and I succeeded, although I was in the last row, in seeing a part of what was going on; the man did tricks with cards, stole rings, and changed a glass of wine into a bouquet. All this delighted the audience, who made no attempt to detect his confederates, and pretended not to see the preparations which are essential for tricks performed without preparation.

“He’s a magician!” said a little man, opening his eyes to their fullest extent and looking stupidly about him. “Faith! I can’t understand it, can you, wife?”

“Oh! I want to see for myself,” replied the little man’s better half; and she motioned to the juggler that she wanted to draw a card. He approached, chattering in Italian, German, and English, the result being an utterly incomprehensible jargon which completely enchanted the audience.

The lady drew an eight of spades, which she then replaced in the pack and shuffled the cards; but our magician was certain of guessing the card, because the pack he offered her contained eights of spades and nothing else; and while he bewildered his hearers by his constant jabbering, he slipped his hand behind the little man, who, when another trick was being performed, was suddenly requested to rise, and was stupefied to find under him the card that his wife had drawn.

I walked away from the sleight-of-hand booth; but, happening to put my hand in my pocket, I failed to find my handkerchief. That trick was better than any of the juggler’s; it had been done very adroitly; luckily, I was not wearing my watch seal.

Behold me at last before the enclosure consecrated to the dance. But it was no longer good form to dance in the public gardens; only at village fêtes did our young Parisian exquisites condescend to execute a balance and a ladies’ chain in the open air. Here, none but hucksters, petty bourgeoises, and grisettes dare to abandon themselves to the joys of the dance; they know nothing of conventions, of good form; they want to enjoy themselves, and they are so happy when dancing! their pleasure is depicted on their faces! they hop and skip with such hearty good will! By the faces of the fair damsels who were watching the dancers I could see that good form is sometimes very ill-humored; but they avenged themselves by criticising those who defied convention. They sneered and laughed at the others, and made unkind remarks; good form and propriety never forbid that. They ridiculed everything that they could not do; they spoke slightingly of what in their hearts they loved: it was the fable of the fox and the grapes again.

But the spectators were most numerous around one particular quadrille; the dancers were surrounded by a triple row. I was certain that there must be some unusually pretty face there, or some particularly absurd costume. I approached and succeeded in forcing my way to the front. I looked at one of the dancers: she had an insignificant face and a commonplace dress; she could not be the object of such universal curiosity.

“She is mighty pretty.”

“Oh! you wait till you see how gracefully she dances!”

These remarks were made by two young men who stood near me. Thereupon I glanced over the different performers in the quadrille, and my eyes soon rested on a young woman wearing a little cap with a bunch of roses on it.

I admired the young woman’s piquant face; her eyes were animated by the excitement of dancing; her enjoyment made her bosom rise and fall more rapidly, and the flattering murmur that arose on all sides brought a vivid flush to her cheeks. What woman is insensible to praise? Did you ever meet one who was, reader? If so, I advise you to register her name on your tablets.

But, as I scrutinized the pretty dancer, a sudden reminiscence flashed through my mind: those features, that figure, the bunch of roses, and the plan of coming to Tivoli. Unquestionably it was Mademoiselle Caroline; it was my little flowermaker of the preceding evening. Thoughtless fool that I was! I had forgotten her, and had been strolling about the garden without trying to find her! But since chance had brought me into her presence, I determined to make the most of it, and, good form or not, to try to obtain a dance with her, so that I might speak with her.

But suppose that anybody who knew me should see me dancing at Tivoli! I felt brave enough to defy the criticism and mockery of the young men and the pleasantry of the ladies; and as I contemplated Caroline’s seductive features, I said to myself, with Rousseau: “I must be happy! ’tis man’s first need!”—Now, to be happy, it was necessary first of all that I should dance with Caroline.