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The American character is now generally acknowledged to be the mostcosmopolitan of modern times; and a native of this country, all thingsbeing equal, is likely to form a less prescriptive idea of other nationsthan the inhabitants of countries whose neighborhood and history uniteto bequeathe and perpetuate certain fixed notions. Before the frequentintercourse now existing between Europe and the United States, wederived our impressions of the French people, as well as of Italianskies, from English literature. The probability was that our earliestassociation with the Gallic race partook largely of the ridiculous.All the extravagant anecdotes of morbid self-love, miserly epicurism,strained courtesy, and frivolous absurdity current used to boast aFrenchman as their hero. It was so in novels, plays, and after-dinnerstories. Our first personal acquaintance often confirmed this prejudice;for the chance was that the one specimen of the Grand Nation familiar toour childhood proved a poor émigré who gained a precarious livelihoodas a dancing-master, cook, teacher, or barber, who was profuse ofsmiles, shrugs, bows, and compliments, prided himself on la belleFrance, played the fiddle, and took snuff. A more dignified viewsucceeded, when we read "Télémaque," so long an initiatory text-bookin the study of the language, blended as its crystal style was in ourimaginations with the pure and noble character of Fénelon. Perhaps thenext link in the chain of our estimate was supplied by the bust ofVoltaire, whose withered, sneering physiognomy embodies the wit andindifference, the soulless vagabondage that forms the worst side ofthe national mind. As patriotic sentiment awakened, the disinterestedenthusiasm of Lafayette, woven, as it is, into the record of thestruggle which gave birth to our republic, yielded another and moreattractive element to the fancy portrait. Then, as our reading expanded,came the tragic chronicle of the first French Revolution and thebrilliant and dazzling melodrama of Napoleon, the traditions so patheticand sublime of gifted women, the tableaux so exciting to a youthfultemper of military glory. And thus, by degrees, we found ourselvesbewildered by the most vivid contrasts and apparently irreconcilabletraits, until the original idea of a Frenchman expanded to the widestrange of associations, from the ingenious devices of a mysteriouscuisine to the brilliant manoeuvres of the battle-field; infinitefemale tact, rare philosophic hardihood, inimitable bon-mots,exquisite millinery, consummate generalship, holy fortitude, refinedprofligacy, and intoxicating sentiment,—Ude, Napoleon, Madame Récamier,Pascal, Ninon de I'Enclos, and Rousseau. Casual associations anddesultory reading thus predispose us to recognize something half comicaland half enchanting in French life; and it depends on accident, when wefirst visit Paris, which view is confirmed. The society of one of thosebenign savans who attract the sympathy and win the admiration ofyoung students may yield a delightful and noble association to ourfuture reminiscences; or an unmodified experience of cynical heartsjoined to scenical manners may leave us nothing to regret, upon ourdeparture, save the material advantages there enjoyed. But whoever knowslife in Paris, unrelieved by some consistent and individual purpose,will find it a succession of excitements, temporary, yet varied,—fullof the a