The New York Herald Newspaper, September 21, 1874, Page 4

4 DON CARLOS’ DOMAIN, Frontier Experiences Among the Pyrenees. A RIDE THROUGH BISCAY The Stuff the Bourbon’s Moun- taineers Are Made Of. THE HIGHLANDS OF SPAIN ESTELLA, August 27, 1874. 4 ride through the Basque provinces of Spain is &t present full o! curious incidents, It takes you enurely away trom the main lines of travel, where everything ts modernized, and throws you into @ part of Spain that has lirtie con- nection with the present centurs—a part that re- mains very much the same as 1t was five hundred yearsago, There ts besides a spice of danger caused by the unsettled state of the country, which {s not without its charms to those who love adventure, and the wildness of some of the moun. | tain scenery and its isolation (rom the outside world give aride through here @ charm and in- tereat Dot to be found at present anywhere else, It is a very easy matter to cross the frontier and get into the country heid by the Carlists. With the exception of one road—that leading to Irun— the whole (rontier of Navarre is held by them; and indeed {t may be said they have possession of three-iourtis of the entire frontier between France and Spain. Naturally it forms no part of the plans of the Carlists to stop traMc between the two countries, and all the trade that was lormerly carmea on by the railway Is now done by means of mule teams Passing over the different roaas that cross the frontier, Indeed, the utter absence of all impediments to commerce seems extraordinary, considering the state Of War 1n Which te country is placed; jor the Carlists not only encourage trade with them- selves, but permit the reguiar transport of all sorta of merchandise between Bayonne, on the French side, and Pampeluna, the capital of Navarre, which is held by the troops of Marshal Serrano. They simply content themselves with exacting customs cuties, instead of cutting Pam- peiuna completely om Irom France, as they might easily do. custom bonse ofiicers, customs duties and every- thing relating to the collection of these duties, ana the examination of luggaze is carried on with all the regularity and order of an old and long estab- lishea government, The diligence runs regularly between Bayonne and Pampeluna, passing through Carlist and re- publican lines without molestation, passengers being only required to show their passports. Foreign passports pas’ without question, and Spaniards who can do 30 obtain them, Those who cannot, procure a Carlist and a republican pass- port, and show them alternately to the Carlist and repubiican authorities, as occasion may re- quire. It is just like passing between two friendly countries, It will be seen from this that the fayor shown to tne Caritsts by the French authorities has been somewhat exaggerated. If the republican an- thorities im Pampeluna have a kind of tactt rect- Procity treaty with the Carlists and keep up a | regular trade with them, it cannot be hoped that the French will do less. It cannot be ex- pected that the French people along the trontier should cease ail commercial relations with the Carlists, when the Madrid government encourages such relations as it undoubtedly does in Navarre. With the existing state o! things, with hundreds of people passing back and forth every day by mountain paths as well as the broad high roads, | and nobody on the Spanish side to prevent them, it would be impossible sor the French authorities to prevent arms and munitions !rom being slipped through now and then, and as nearly ail tne Car- lists have passports trom the Madrid government, it 18 next to impossible to arrest them on French territory. But in spite o! this the vigilance of the French authorities has been such that few arms or arti- cles contraband of war bave been passed through, and it is notorious that the principal sup- plies of arms and munitions of war, and especially the cannons which have lately been received, were landed in litle ports on the Biscayan coast ike Berneo and Lequeitio, under the very noses of the Spanish gunboats. Now, can it in justice be expected that France should look after Spanish interests with a sharper eye than the Spanisn do themselves, or that they should put astopto ali traffic with the Carlists when the Madrid government itself does not? Do those people Who are making 80 Much noise about French partiality know what measures woud be necessary to brevent the clandestine shipment of arms and ammunition across the frontier; that it would be necessary to unload every wagon load of hay, to break open every box o! goods, every package of merchandise, every wine cask, of which hundreds pass every day, with Spanish wines for the French growers or manuiacturers; that this would virtually put astop to trade with the Carlists, and entail the greatest losses on French trade along the frontier, besides that it would require an army to carry - Out such Measures’? It Is very evident what all the excitement and indignation and clamor with which Enrope has been ringing this month past, caused by the favor said to be shown the Carlists by the French authorities is altogether uncalled for, and that it was simply the result of German mis- representations and German hatred of France, Here have we been expending an immeesurable amount of pity upon the government of Madrid, doomed thus to struggle with arebellion aided and abetted py a power!ul neighbor, and exha ing our stores of indignation upon France, when it now turns out that the people we have been Pitying are the guilty ones, and that it was against them our indignation should have been directed. Let this little mistake be borne ig mind, to serve a8 a butler against the next explosion of German indignation about anything concerning France. HOW TO GET INTO THE CARLIST COUNTRY. The diligence jeaves Bayonne at midnight for Pampeluns. You take a ticket for Venta d’Arres, @ place about ten mile from Pampeiuna, for which you will pay a price varying irom twenty-five to filty francs, according to the humor of the bookkeeper at Bayonne, and your own capacity for driving a bargain, He commences by asking you fifty francs. You inform him be is mistaken and that the price is only twenty-five francs, whereupon he will come down, acknowledge he was in error and tell you it isnot twenty-five, but forty francs, which price you will probably be constrained to pay, un- jess you are gifted with much persuasive force, As the diligence leaves Bayonne at midaignt You see nothing of road until long after you have passed tne frontier, You only feel that you are being borne along through the darkness by an indefinite nuraber of mules, whose shadowy forme you can barely distinguish as they go clattering along over ile hard, smooti road before you ata Rallop. Alter a while you feel that you are as- cending siowly, but surely, by a very crooked, but ¥00d road, that zig-zags yon back and forth, like @ monstrous serpent, as it gradually lifts you up the mountain side, and yon have a happy feeling of continually hanging over some awiul precipice or yawn hasm—a feeling ‘which is not in the least decreased by your not ve- ing able to see Whether itis the case or not. ‘The night is dark aud the air is (resh aud cool, and my place up behind the driver, beneath the hood or capote, with the leatier curtain puiled up over my knees, would be pieasant enough were it not for @ small but active coiony 0: fleas rnat live here and who are ‘hirsty for blood. J am of opinion that more blood is spilied in Spain by these Victous little brutes than by the Carists ana re- pubdlicans together. About two ofeiock we have crossed the frontier They have their custom houses, their | NEW YORK HERALD, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1874. and stopped at the Carlist Custom House. 1 can only see that itis a large duliding somewhat re- sembling @ barn, while Our passports are being examined (the diligence is full, and holds sixteen persons) and our baggage searctied py the light of | _ lanterns. The whole business is done with | the greatest order and regfilarity, and with less | unnecessary tumbling about of things than would be the case in a French custom house, and th & few minutes we have resumed our places and the ‘ diligence goes rumbling forward once more. The parties of whom I have spoken as belng thirsty, | probably wishing to retire to rest, DOW proposed | | am armistice, which I was otly too ready to | accept, A ew moments later I fel! into a state of | unconsciousness from which I was aroused to find the diligence had stopped at Elizondo and that it was broad daylight, Euzondo 18 @ small town situateo in the valley of the Bidassoa, a litte river that farther down, near tts mouth, forms the (rontier between Frauce and Spain, and is | famous for being the scene of many battles be- | tween the English, Frenen and Spanish during the wars of Napoleon, We are now within the dominions of Carlos VIL., | and I look about me to see what signs 1 can dts- cover of his rule. dozen soldiers lounging about the streets, The uniform of these soldiera does not present that uniformity of appearance which the word would seem to imply, and which is so pleasing to tne eyes of military meno. On the contrary, {t is rather remarkable for tts variety of color, and in the irregular presence of the diferent parts of which tt ts composed, | | Some of the soldiers have no shoes, some no coats and others are apparently without pantaloons, But you must uot be deceived by this absence of some of the distinctive marks of the soldier, | and suppose that they are, therefore, not very — formidable, In the first piace, although they do not wear them now they ali bave shoes, carefully put away for the cold weather. Besides, neither the Carlists nor their adversaries wear shoes, properly speaking, in the summer. Instead they have a light kind of sandal, made of coarse linen cloth, with hempen rope sewed together to form the sole, which, besides only costing ten sous, is the lightest and easiest thing for marching ever invented. The only uniformity to be observed about the ' Carlist uniform bere was the red cap, or boina, of the Basque mountaineers, a red stripe down the trousers, the never failmg cartradge box and the Remington rifle—uniformity enough for fightung purposes. Don Carlos does not squander his Money in showy uniforms, but expends it care- fully on the best arms and ammunition to be pur- chased, and bis soldiers fight none the worse nor are none the less amenable to discipline lor the freedom allowed in the way of clothes. Alter @ light breakfast of eggs and chocolate, obtained in the one little fonda of the place, we were again on the way. The road leads fora while up the pretty little valley of a tributary of the bidassoa, which it scon becomes evident is | going to take us high up into another range of ; Mountalus that lies before us, By nine o’clocs we are again winding up, corkscrew fashton, through littie dells dnd hollows, dark and cool, shaded by chestnut trees, where the murmur of mountain streams that come plunging down tne defies is only varied by tae musical clatter of an occasional mill. It does not look much like war; but here and there along the road stand the walls Of @ ruined house, with charred timbers lying around, showing where some combat took place between the republican troops and the Car- | lists before the country was completely occupied by the latter, We ascend higher and higher, and at last reach the summit of the range and soon behola, rising dim and smoxy in the distance, far beyond the Ebro, the mountains of Old Castile. Down the crooked, tortuous road we roil at a swinging gallop, and in another hour have reacned the 100t of the descent, where emerges a litte val- Jey from among the mountains. Here ts @ large Kind of tarmhouse or grange, before which the diligence halts, aud I am some- | what surprised to learn that itis the piace called | Venta d’Arres, where L am to get out, 1 accordingly climb down, my travelling bag 18 pitched out to me, the diligence whirls away and 1 am lett alone by the roadside. My reason ior stopping at Venta d’Arres was | this:—It would be impossible to pass through | Pampeluna on my way to Estella without papers | from the Madrid authorities. Butas it is my in- tention to follow the operations of the Carlist army, and as going about with two kinds of pass- ports is if anytuing a trife more dangerous than going about without any, fatal as this plan was in the case of Captain Scnmidt, It was necessary to keep within tne Carltst lines. I would, therefore, have to make a devour through the mountains around Pampeluna and strike the road to Esteliaon the other side, Venta d’Arres was the best pomnt from which to start on this detour, but I had sup- posed it was a town ora village at least, and was somewhat taken aback to find {t was only a jarm- house, a very large stone building it is true. No- body came out to invite me in or carry my travel- ling bag, and I began to Jear it was alla mistake. Idetermined to walk in, however, and see if there was anybody about. I did so, and found myself in the society of a number of mules, donkeys and horses that were quietly muncaing their hay. Not a human bemg to be seen, 1 walked up stairs by a broad, rouga, heavy wooden stairway, broad enough and strong enough for a coach-and-four to have driven up, and found my- self in the dweiling of the family. There was 4 jong, broad corridor here, on each side of which Were disposed @ number of rooms, The floor was of rough planks; the ceiling and partitions of the same material, and the whole had that rich black- brown color which cun only be given to a house, as to a meerschaum pipe, by long years of smoking. 1 pushed open the first door I came to and looked in. The room I saw was so black and smoky that it would have been impossible to distinguish any- thing but for a large fire that was burning rightin the middie of the four. There was not the slight est sign of achimuey to be seen, and I at first Started back, supposing I had discovered a case of incipient iucendiarism. J was instantiy reassured, however, by seeing a number of people sitting on benches disposed around the wails watching a large pot and a irying pan or two that were on the fire with a great deal of interest. I had just had time to take this all in ata glance when a large, powerful woman came forth out of the obscurity in One corner with @ large, sinister jooking carving koe in her hand, She did not attack me, however, but simply in- vited me to come in and sit down, aading that dinner would be ready in ao lew minutes. I accordingly went in and sat down along with the others, and began to take an in- terest in the large pot and the [rytug pans, I then perceived, upon looking up, that there was a chim- ney, 41 enormous one, which took up the place Suully occupied by the ceiling, aud rising like & dome over our heads, It was black with smoke, and the light came down trough it in the form of @ blue mist, dinner proved to be very good—for those who like spanish or Basque cookery, which 1s sim- ply execrable—but it was served up in plentiful quantities and on aciean, white, snowy tablecloth that of itsel! gave you an appetite, If there ts anything the people iu tas country have reason to proud of it Is their great quantities of clean, white snowy linen, both for tavle and bed, which makes amends sor many stortcominys. Even the poorest peasants pride themselves on their linen, and { have never yet in Navarre been asked to sit down to a table with a dirty tablecioth uor been shown to a bed on which the sheets were bot as fresh and as wuite as snow. There were one or two travellers like myself among the people who sat down to dinner; but the company was principally made up apparently of | the people of the farms or persons from the sur- rounding country on their way to or from Pampe- iuna, with three or four partidas, or irregular Car- list solaers, and the farmhouse was, I soon learned, a kind of fonda or tavern, 1 had some difficulty in obtaining horses to continue my journey; for all 2 had seen on the ground floor upon entering the house be longed, i soon Jearned, to the Carlist government, 1 had to go of avout a mile to @ vil in order to dnd any, and then I only laga The only visible ones are a haif | --TRIPLE SHEET. sneceeded in procuring one for myself to ride, but none to carry my baggage. It only weighed 100 | pounds, but then the horse was smali; there was no way of attaching it to the saddie even were he strong enough to carry me with tits addinonal weight over the bad mountain roads we would have to pass Over. “But what are you going to do with my bag- gage?” I asked. “onl | will carry {ton my back,’ replied the | owner of the horse | “What! All the way to Estella, nearly two days’ march?" “Si, seflor.’? 1looked at him, and surveyed him from head to | foot He was not a large man, but he had a tough, | wiry, solid look and a quiet, resolute air, so chat | after a moment's consideration I agreed to let him try it,and a bargain was struck. By four o'clock in the afternoon we were off. The way at first ‘led through @ little plain, which in spite of the | yellow sandy rocky soll must be very productive, | judging by the luxurtant crops of grain which it produces. Tne road was a mere path utterly impassable for carriages of any ‘descrip- | ton, except the little low primitive ox carts of the country, whose screeching may usually be heard fora mile. Itis, besides, covered with so | many stones O/ all Shapes and sizes that! Was as- tonished at my little horse being abie to get along atall, and was keptin continual expectation of | his breaking his legs. He did not, however, but | followed his owner, who was trudging on before, | carrying my travelling bag on his shoulders, with a step equally certain and anerring. We soon cross the little plain, on which the sun | 18 pouring down his hottest rays, and are glad to take shelter under the trees on the side o/ 4 moun- tain, Which we soon begin to ascend. From this forward we are continually guing up one side of a mountain and down the other by paths s0 steep and rocky that I am glad to dismount and walk and let my horse find bis way alone ratuer than take the risk of breaking both our | Necks by some unlucky stumble. From time to time we pass @ Village, with its assemblage of great, massive, unsightly stone houses, which serve as barn, stable and dweliimg all in ove, and are usually greeted with the cry of “Viva el Rey!” | “Viva Carlos Settimo!” generally in the mouths of | children. ‘The scenery all the way 1s beautiful, and there is | nothing niore delightini than a trip of this kind through the mountains of Navarre, We continue our march until long after dark, and about nine o'clock we strike the great road between Pampe- luna and Vigtoria, into which we turn in the direc- tion 0; the latter point, Aquarter ofan hour later we are hailed by Carlist sentinels, who were here watching the roal to Pampelana, A short conver- sation isexchanged between them and our guide , in the Basque language, and then we are allowed to pass without showing @ passport. At ten o'clock we have reached the village of Irasun, where we put up for the night. A quarter of an hour's walk next morning brought us to the railroad connecting Pampeluna with St. Sebastien and Miranda, on the Ebro. The station house was burned, and the track almost hidden by grass. We followed the railroad in the direction of Pampeluna for about two miles | toa narrow gorge, where the river Araquil, the railroad and the highway all converge together and crowd each other in getting through, The ratlroad crosses the Araquil here twice in 500 yards, and botn bridges, fine iron ones, had been blown up and were hanging twisted and broken over the plers, Why they should both have been de- stroyed the genius of destruction only can say. Wo cross the Araquil a little further down, on a fine stone bridge, one arch of which had been blown away, but was replaced by ligt westle work, and Jeaving the Araquil behind us follow one of Its tributaries, which soon leads us far up into the mountains. Everywhere the country is rich and flourishing. ‘The little valleys are tn the highest state of cultivation, teeming with Ife and popula. tion, and the mountains, wherever they afford pasturage, covered with sheep and cattle. There is little appearance as yetof the country having been impoverished by the war. Now and then we met numbers of pack mules, anladen, led by boys, and peasant girls, and | learned they | wereall returning from Estella, where they bad been to carry supplies for the army, By ten o’clock we had crossed this range or watershed separating the Araquil from the Arga, and beheld lying beiow us a litte valley that for @ space of @ couple of mules seems covered with snow. I was not long in discovering that itt was mot snow, but salt, and that we had arrived in the valley of Salinas d’Oro, famous for ita salt springs The water ts so plentiful that every peasant in the surrounding country, apparently, bas his basin, from which he derives a littie income in addition to that obtained srom his farm, The Manulacture is very simple and inexpensive, The water is 8o plentiful that it fows through the little valley in a considerable stream. Op each side of it, covering the whole valley, Mat, shallow basins have been tormed of earth, The water is dipped up into the basins with buckets, and the sun does the rest. The saltis beautifully white and pure, ‘he village of Salinas d'Oro ts situated up on the biliside, overlooking the valley, and here we halted for breakiast. Learning that 300 prisoners taken in the batile of Monte Muro were confined here | went to see them. They were in a kind of oid building re- sembiing @ Spanish farm house, only that it had @ large court inside. They were lying about in this court smoking, talking and playing carus, seemingly ln gvod spirits, and I say no sick among tuem, As jar as 1 could judge they were well jed and weli cared lor; but as I have made it a rule in this war to assert nothing for truth which bas not come within my own per- sonal observation, and as I did not see the prison. ers eat, lam not prepared to say how they are fed. There is no scarcity of provisions here, however. The guards and prisoners seemed to be on the best OJ terms; the prisoners were jooking well and seemed tn good spirits, and J have no reason to suppose they Were iil treated in any way. Itis true they have nov been long here, and wnat if so many remain cooped up in so small a space to- gether for a long time disease will sooner or later break out among them, At Salinas d'Oro we again struck the high road, leading to Pampeluna in one direction, in the other to Estella, having been twelve hours in making the detour around Pampelana. From here to Estella, a distance of sixteen miles, our marca W.8 an easy One, and the guide, with guy travelling bag still on his shoulders, struck out atarapid pace. When it is remembered that Don Carjos’ army 18 composed of such men as this guide—bard, tough and strong as their own, muies—tbe secret of his success will be under- stood, Between bere and Estella we meta good many Carlist soldiers. Some were returning to their homes to help gatuer the harvest, some going to the army, aud we saw many at work in the fleids along the road, and some were simply going to their posts. Tuere were also a good many unladen mules returning from Estelia, led, as usual, by boys or peasant giris, aud It was nothing unusual to see @ soldier mounted on a mule behind a peasant girl, he carrying Ms Kemington on the sudale before War here seeins to have some pleasant Sites, Aiter bate in whieh Concha waa killed Don Carlos gave leave of absence to uearly us army £0 heip gather the harvest, knowing + there Was ho danger of tue enemy Waking ah sive movement until the whole army should neither party can be as yet another great battle, 16 May still be some time belore operations are re- commenced. uy ‘four o'clock we were on the famous battle fleii of Monte Muro, which I nave deseri previous letier, aud oy six we were in Tow, Old-tashioned streets ot Estella, SPAIN AND GIBRALTAR, {From the London Standard, Sept. 4.] The Marquis of Lorne aad Princess Louise ar- rived in Campbeltown on Wednesday night. Yesterday the Marquis addressed his constituents in tne Town Hall, He considered the recognition of the Spanish government premature, because that government had not yet shown its capacity to deleat its enemies, aking of Gibraitar, he heid that it should never be given up to spain, We have as good a right to that fortress as the Span. lards, aud as one of the ports to India we should Keep that great key to the Mediterranean, He regretted that one of tue lonian isiauds wad pot | bean kept Jor deiensive ourposes, THE DRAMA IN FRANCE The Newest Productions from the Pens of the Playwrights. t | MORALISTS VS. SATIRISTS. “Ta Chute” and “L’Enfant” Criti- cally Described. The Crime of Adultery and the Moral. Panis, Sept. 2, 1874. This te the dead time of the yeur for French theatres; all the world, as described by the amus- ing French phrase for a couple of thousand people, have leit Paris, and as Puris 1s, of course, the cen- tre of the earth, no author of acknowledged repu- tation ever dreams of bringing out a new piece till | the world has come home. Now and thenanew dramatist who would have no chance in the season catches @ wornout director on the Boulevard just as he 1s setting off for Trouville or Cauterets, which is just now the fashionable watering place, and holds nim by the buttonhole till he gets a manuscript accepted on condition that the man- agement shall be putto noexpense. It is then | played to an empty house by third rate actors and | actresses or by young people who have been watt- ing allthe year lor an opportunity of coming be- , lore the footiigits, but pever had a chance of ap- pearing belore a Parisian audience while the great stars of their profession were shining. Among the | most remarkable of the new pieces by new au. thors which have been acted during the present Month is one which bas been performed at the Gymnase Dramatique, called “LA CHUTE," BY M. LOUIS LEROY. Adultery is, Of course, the subject of It; fora Parisian public would be content with nothing less, For this religious and social crime still con- | tinues to exercise a sort of Jascination upon the whole French nation; and if it be really true that the popular plays o! a country reflect the age and body of the time, one might well think that all re- gard lor the sacred institution of marriage has definitively disappeared from the French mund, | Out of ten plays or ten novels one is certain to | | find an average of at least eight which are solely . concerned with the question of adultery in its newest aspect; and the extraordinary number of } manners in which the subject is always being con- sidered surpasses the widest flights of imagina- | tion in other countries. It seems as if the most | inventive and delightful of writers had become absolately incapable of creating any other ideas than those which are connected with the fracture of the seventh commandment. | Yet they are such consummate artists that they always contrive to give birth to something | new and interesting, and there 1s a.notaole differ- | ence about the manner in which adultery was | | treated by Molire and that in which it is made to | serve the purposes of M. Louis Leroy. The theatres | of the Bourbons, down to the reign of Louis XVIII. | and the dawn of the great genius of Victor Hugo, was chiefly occupied by the comic elements which | were analyzed and brought out in the representa- tion of conjugal misfortunes. | Mohere, whose personal experience conld hardly ‘have been pleasing to bim, was constantly show- ing husbands who richiy deserved to be laughed at, and infallibly obtained the reward due to their merits. The French dramatists of the present day all aspire, however, to be moralists. The out- | raged husband ts no longer dismissed with a laugh anda funny couplet. His misery {s such as is ex- | pressly designed to mike our flesh creep; bis | agony is piled up so high as to make us gasp for | | oreath, and then his anger is terrible. He 1s | enjoined solemnly to Kill hig unfaithins | wife or her lover; and, in any case, to do | justice upon both of them. He goes about witha revolver in his pocket orarife within reacu, and 1s not at alla person to be mocked, Now this is assuredly & progressin one direction, but never- theless if Icaught @ French author who had not been taking absinthe, quite sober, and could per- | suade him to take a qutet afternoon's walk with Ine in @ seciuded spot, J think I might submit to him an tuquiry whether it might not be a new and pleasing thing to look at adultery as a degrading and even impossible sorm of guilt, which might be left altogether unrepresented upon the stage with compiete safety to public morality. M. Louis | Leroy, however, is fully entitled to the credit or having produced something more or less new out of such very oid materials, He is one of the most | vigorous-and entertaining writers tn the Charivari, | and his improper stories, which form a regular 1ea- | ture in that paper, are composed with such extraordinary skili and a witso brilliant that they | Rave created quite a separate school in French literature. He is unrivalled as a master of ama- tory dialogue, and is certuiniy one of the gayest, | most originai writers now living. His originality, indeed, is circumscribed by an extremely small circle, and he never goes out of it. His wit con- | sists rather in @ marvellous felicity of words than in fertility of ideas; but in describing certain phases of the inner life of the French middle classes he has had no superiors and few equals. An Englishman or an American who should un- | dertake to write as he does would shock and offend his readers beyond forgiveness. M. Louis Leroy never offends them, and when be shocks a modest reader, as he Often does, the shock Is like ;@ brisk dash of eau de cologne upon tne face upon hot day—it makes one laugh, it does not make one angry. AT THE GYMNASE. | Under these circumstances M. Louis Leroy’s first attempt as a dramatic writer naturally aroused good deal of attention and some curiosity, and It | Was no sinali advantage to him that his plece had | been accepted by M. Montigny, the manager of the ) Gymnase, who ls known to be @ fastidious critic, | proiou ndly versed in the study of public opinion, and that any piece which he had approved would be piayed by the best company of actors in the world, Everybody, tnerefore, who was still in Paris and cared for theatrical entertainments, was present on the first night when ‘La Chute” was playea, ‘the curtain rose upon the lodgings of a rich young French bachelor named M. Léon de Mon. treux, who is somewhat abrupt of speech and stern of manner. He asks his valet in a sharp voice whether a lady has called on kim that morn- ing, and the servant makes a negative reply to this momentous question. At that moment the bell rings, aud the servant announces mot the ijady who is expected, but a young man who is the 0som {riend of M. de Mon- treuX aud an exquisite of the first class, a certain Baron de Malvouty, an innocent reprobate, who is mocked, duped and tosseu ina blanket through. out the plece. He is a kind of tame monkey, and @ character never Lefore produced upon the stage. Maibouty 15 in ove With Mile. Fhrasie Perruchet, achorist at the comic opera and dauguter ofa porteress, Who fas assumed the poetical name of Carmina, Carmina, vy me of some dratnauc comuination of wien M. Geroy bas not reveaied the secret, calls also upon M, de Montreux, and, in & scene WHICH has often been produced ani repro duced in comme: DUE Walch 18 Stl) amusing, she insists that her jover Majbouty shali elope with her: And, Changing the suai parts in ufe made by gentiemen and laties, it is she Who attacks Lis virtue and fe Who vesists her gaporvunities, At last the lady carries her position in oue epic § “MY MOTHER KNOWS EVERYTHING, ; This she says in commanding tones, and then | the bell rings again. The ha, vy pair disappear at | this sound, and the lady who has been waited for | 60 long appears at length apon the stage. She is } young, beautiful, a Woman o! high rank and mar- Tied. According to M. Leroy'’s easy moratty sue 18 the ideal of A young Man's mistress, the wiite blackbird of @ jady killer. Nevertheless Mme. de Vandeuli (vhat is the jady's name) has pot yet transgressed the ultimate iimits of French pro- priety, though sne goes Ww Visit a single gentie- man i his private rooms. Indeed, she has come expressly to tell tum that sue oever wili do so: | and although her proceeding, even judge by Parisian rules, 18 boid and compromis ing, she has no intention of bevoming | cuipavie, Mme. de Vandeull 8 delivering a charming spoken essay upon Virtue, in order 10 explain the rectitude of fer principles, when the beil rings again, and the lady has only just ume to hide herseil in acioset When M. de Montreux’s valet. | attention. Tun away with Auieile, | her | Marry. cent effusions ag 4 mata trifle one likes to se equally above and Ai can be calied ing if told in English. gracefully in French, or “The who seems remarkably Uitaugnt for a | Dever Lave been written. French servant, announces M. de Vandeuti, the husband whose domestic peace is in jeopardy. Such things probably happen sometimes in real lufe; they happen invariabiy upon the stage. M. DE VANDEULL, with a carious cynicism and trivoitty, in the worst possible taste, volunteers the information that ne does not care a button for nis wife, because he 1s in love with Lady Pembrocke, an English lady, with whom he ts about to take fight that evening for Italy, apd as hg will require a considerable sum of poc et mofey for that Sarpose ne begs M. de Mon- reux to be $0 obi, ‘as to excuse him from the immediate payment o1 $15,000, which he has lost to him at play on the 4 vious night. Sucha request, complicated by such an avowal, 18 so agreeable to the views of de Montreux, that he instantly accepts the bargain and M. de Vanueull goes away witha light heart, while his wife comes out of her concealment blushing and sorrowful. beard everything, she ta indignant at ber husband’s treason, her last scruples fade away, #he 18 con- quered and she goes straight up to M. dé Mon- treux, ne, “Swear ia you will always love me, and on,” she cries. curtain jalis, In the second act we are taken to Nice. M. dé Montreux and Mme. de Vanceuil, who are living as husband and wife, can find no quieter retreat than one Of tie noisiest pleasure places in Europe, where scandals are immediately hunted out and ruwored abroad, To be sure they are lovers in @ comedy, and in a comedy of M, Louis Leroy, or they hever would have tried to conceal their shame in @ glass house. Maloouty and Carmina are also at Nice, Carmina has only broken @ theatrical engagementand not ber marriage vows, because she has never yet been united to any one in the bonds of wediock, But Mme. de Vandeull, who, notwithstanding ber fall from virtue, desires to retain her position in society, has ovviously com- mitted a Dlunder in going to Nice. The poor lady seems to understand that sbe has made @ mistake, and goes about among the motley crowd there constantly in search of solitude and mystery. ‘I's line of conduct does not please M. de Montreux, who is aesirous 0 displaying his conquest to show all man and woman kind how irre- sisuble are his fascinations. So the failen wo- man’s punishment fullows quickly alter her fall, She coula only, at best, make one excuse for her Weakuess, and iancy that she had yielded from trust in the loyalty and affection of the man who bad ruined her. -But tt 18 ciear very soon that constancy 1s no part of his creed. M. de Montreux quickly gets tired of ner and transfers his capri- cious adoration to Carmina, who is just about to be She nas | b: | married to that M. de Malbouty, with whom she | eloped in the first act. Not satisfied by | giviug such a rival to the lady who has | coniided her happmess to his keeping, M. de Montreux offers her the indignity of \pviting the courtesan to her house. that Mme, de Vaudeuil shall receive Carmina and associate with her. faint resistance to this cruel demand, until, sung by jealousy and suspecting somewhat tardily that her lover has been captivated by Carmina, the great lady, forgetiing ber birth and rank, consents to visit Carmina, who openly iusults her. M, de Montreux is pregent, but he has uelther the will nor the courage to deiend her. CAN IT BE RECONCI It seems to me that this scene is as improbable as it is disagreeable, M. de Moutreux ts held up to us as the type of a gentieman. Parisian geu- tleman, indeed; but even a Parisian gentieman has sometning of chivalry, soniething of generosity 1m his nature; and ho gentleman, uowever iriyol- ous and contemptible he mignt be, Would tameiy suffer a lady under his protection to he wantonly outraged, At this crisis, however, a still more as- vonishing event happens, for M. de Vandeuil re- appears on the stage, and, aver taking his wife’s part, offers her his arm and leads her away. We are to understand likewise that notwithstanding the little episodes in both their lives above men- D, tioned they will lve happily and agreeably to- | gether in the future. It is @ strange piece, and although it was put upon the stage with everything that exquisite acting and consummate experience o! dramatic effects could do for it, it had but a short lue and bas now dropped out of the play bills, probably to reappear ho more. Tne next sensation piece which has been played during the present month has been produced at tue Tnéatre de Cluny, and is called “LIBNFANT,”” BY MME, LOUIS FIGUIER. ‘The curtain rises upon the beautiful villa Lu- clanl, at Casteilamare, on the borders of the blue and tranquil sea, A young woman named Amelie, of @ soit and sympathetic nature, rather too dreamy and confiding, explains to signora Natale, the housekeeper of the villa, that she was In love peture she married, and that she 13 still tn love—a 5 ; lact much more serious—with a certain Henri de iroéne, a lieutenant in the navy, commanding the Niobe, 4 man-ol-war. Yielding to the entreaties of her family, Amelie has, however, given her hand to an iropmaster named Pierre Fabron, and has be- come a mother by this union, Her daughter Eve- line is our years old that day. but tne ueart of Amelie still belongs to the gallant sailor who cap- lvated ber Virgin Janey, ‘eis here,” observes the Signora Natale, ‘the Niobe anchored this morn- ing at Casteilamare.” Much agitated by this in- teiligence Mune. Fabron, witi extreme vivacity and equal imprudence, bastens to write a letter to ner oid lover, while the comtug of his old mvai throws ber husband into a furious passion. That Unfortunate gentieman, who loves her and who 18 aware that veé 1s not heioved in return, ts jealous ol the naval officer. He believes that lieutenants in command O1 ships can steam avout wherever Uhey piease, and that the Minister of the Navy Piaces first class frigates at their disposal for the purpose Of enabling them io appear to advantage He insists | Mme. de Vandeutl offers a | in the presence oj ladies who have aturacted their He has no doubt Whatever that M. de Trogne has come to Castellamare to and as he nO means @ convenient husband he determines to waich them botu with an attentive eye, being under tue Impression that they ouly want the will to become most guilty, if they are not so already. Now, jealous husbands really worry themselves unnecessarily when they begin to cudgel their brains in order to inveut a means Ol surprising their better halves in a criminal action; for it really seems to other people as if they desired that which they take SUCH pains to oring about. There is one trick, however, which Is as old as comedy, aud which never falls to succeed. The oftener it is is by | me, I> i oung man, transported he npn He! around her aud the ; | high philosophy and abstract truth, ut in pracuce the less It appears to be suspected | yy those Who Might iong ago have been put upon their guard against such a stale device, had they | been willing to profit by the lesson of fiction or experience. finds so much encumbrance, pleasure even for a that sne eels an incautious anxiety communicate her deligut to somebody who wil probably share it. This somebody, who is often as expansive and tmprudeat as she 1s, be- to comes in tur muved by an irresistible Wish to congratulate her on her temporary deliverance from ter burden, Just then the absent husvand is certain to turn up With a dagger or arevolver in his hand, aud Offers to # scandal-ioving public the most sensational o! dramaue incidents. ‘Tpis Oid stage trick ts once wore put into action by Mme. Louis Piguie She appears to be in- spired by au Orihowox respect ior theatrical tra divious, Accu rding!, tention to visit Napi wards his wile’s lover arrives, The husband sees her enter her summer Wiouse, Where M. de Trotue is Waiting (or her. The husband at once fires a pistoi suot at them, anu Amelie falls, We hear no more of her (or twelve years afterwards, Meantime her daughter Eveline has grown up into a@ sentimental and melancholy girl, weepin, about her sad bome, which is quite foriorn au desolate without the housewife and mother. Fa- bron loves ver, but the unfortunate tronmaster is no better beloved by his daughter than he was by his wife. Eveline ts simply bored. Sne would feel even muca more dreary if there was not, some- Where to the zhvorhood, a certain Paul Cha- Tien, @ captain’s sou, and a iad full of promise and bigh aspirings, wio has everything necessary to insure the happiness of @ young lady avout to | But Pierre Fabron, notwithstanding his own experience of the woes of aa ili-sorted mar- Tage, resases bis cousent to their union with in- flexidie obstinacy, Lveline, apon her part, finding that she Must not love the man Of her choice, de- | termines to die lor him—there can be no more simple Way out of her difficulties, But now it turns out that her mother is still alive; Fabron had wounded. he had not killed hez, aud she had subsequently been carried to @ couvent and had become a nun. Under these conditions she had not made herself known to her daughter, but she bad f,und means oj seeing her from time to ume, and now the girl is in aanger of death, comes to nurse her as a Sister oj Charity. At tue bedside of their dying daughter she aguin meets her tiusband, and, in an emotional scene, very ably written, allows herself to be recognized and proves her coimpiete innocence to demonstration. She confesses that she bad veen in Jove with M. de Troéne, vut bad luvariably conducted bersell in a virtuous and irreproachabie manper. Respecung the fatal interview Wuich nearly cost her ter ile, she declares that she fad ouly sought tt for the purpose of asking tlm to give ber back ner jet- ters; thougti, alter ali, they were only sucti tuno- may write without @ blush whe first time wer heart is touched; but | Which @ wile would naturally desire to recall. The imnocence of Mme. Fabron being tuus pro- claimed fvelne and happy: M. Favron observing that he only opposed the wedding daughier the supposed guilt of her mother, Favron tnen ci ana E Mine, Fabron, either nov wishing to be shot over again aner Such uncomfortaole adventures, kisses ier danghter coldly ou the (orehead, vids ner be happy | With the Mab Of ber Choice and returns unmoved | | to ner convent Paui Charien are made yecause be ieared to reveal vo his M. 1S a resiitution of marita. rights ads lor him with hey mother, vat eline pi or feeling no inclination for a married ife THR MORAL which Mme, Louls Figuier draws from all this 1s that @ husband has 4 clear right to «ul a Woman taken {n adultery Wf they lave no familys but that he is | Fhe dt deprived of that right uf she ts amotier. | t rave ovjections; tor iJ the husband has @ right to take the jaw into iis own hands and to execute | his wife as 4 criminal, his poWer can be in po way diminished by the birth ofa chiid, which makes the crime much worse, jor he would be called on to punish the guilt of the mother as well as ol the Wile, and the Woman would be doubly criminal 18 plain that such a uvctrine ts open to The only other novelty at the French theatres ls & pretty littie one-act piece called “THE RELIC OF LOVE,” BY M. A, DB LAUNAY, It was charmingly played, aud is just the sort of alter alate dinner, but it is eneath criticism. The plot. jot--wonld pe utterly snock- But anything may be said lic Of Love" could | i ‘the woman who is badly married | in geting rid of few hours, ; | Wards held M. Fabron expresses his in- , 3, and & few moments aiter- | BACON AND SHAKESPEARE, Dia Shakespeare Write the ‘Novum Organum? To THe Eprror oF THE HERAL The popular belief long conceded the authorship of this treatise to Francis Bacon, Baron Verulam, but on etrikingly insufficient grounds, no proof existing that he wrote it other than that the @ctual author, ‘or doubtless satisfactory reasons, Was willing that another should enjoy the honor of authorship. The history of Bacon's life almost Preciudes the idea that his could have been the mind that founded the new inductive school of pauosopay, A struggling, ambitious lawyer, @ pliant, self-seeking courtier, are not the materials ‘out of which philosophers are fashioned. The ranks of these are rarely recruited from the active, prac- Sica men of the world such as Bacon. For them id, abstr; HA EaRettag balate OP che utes or an Agail edt Kay llle would have made tt almost an im- poeeinent to ay omplish the actual mental labor even if the ability existed. Notoriously “the law jg a jealous mistress,” and the life of a courtier in the days of Queen Bess was still more engrossing. Ab eager, ambitious man, he required an instant reward for labor periurmed. Would he have been willing to withdraw himself from legitimate du- ties to gratify @ yearning after posthumous fame? With Shakespeare how different! His genius peculiarly fitted him for the task. His works are already treatises on “philosophy.” Hamlet and Prospero have alone said as many pregnant things as are found in allof the “Novum Organum.’? It 0 universal @ genius can be said to have any Special bent it certainly turned to the regions of Clearly there is @ stroug presumption tha‘ Ba- con not the author, while it 1s equally evident that Shakespeare might have been, Of course it would be absurd to consider the claims of any other man of that age. ~ Ss. Shakespeare’s Soliloquy. To THE Epivor OF THE HERALD:— 1 send you a copy of the soliloquy which I found in an old chest among the effects of my grana- father while recently searching for proofs of the authorship of Shakespeare’s plays. My grand- father was a lineal descendant of Lemuel Gul- liver,* a bosom friend of the immortal bard, who bestowed on him many marks of his esteem, among which was the original soliloquy, written on sheepskin in the well known hand of Shake- speare, and it Was undoubtedly the firat produc- tion of that wondertul genius after bis arrival in London A. D, 1587, [shall take great pleasure in showing the parchment toall admirers of Shake+ speare who Wil callat my rooms, Proiessor Y. GULLIVER RIGADOO, No. 1 First street, New York, SMAKESPEARE'S SOLILOQUY. My name is William Shakesperae, and my trade— Like that of my old tether—kalling calves. But, hot content with such ignoble game, 1 dit o’erstep the stern decree of law By poaching deer within nis lordship’s park; Which deing known | hitherward bave ted Along the Avon's banks. along the weary road, Aud, having reached the end of my intent, Til shake the dust of Stratiord trom my feet. Leaving to Heaven's kind care my wile and babes, Whose only tortune is my tarnished name. Now doth the midnight of my wreiched grief Yield to the daybreak of my after hopes. Now do I greet, through the thick London fos My soul's sweet temple, yon goodly play ho Wherein Pil shake my spear, and rant and sirut, And shake a wealth of shillings trom the throng That nightly gape at shakescenes on the stage. My piays shall shake the spheres of huiaan thought Long alter Lam shaken into dust. Bat let the future on the future walt, My business now concerns my present state. Ill enter here. (Exity * “Gulliver's Travels” are well known historical works, thanks to the indefatigable labors of Doan Switt. Can This Statement Be Authenticated t New YorK, Sept. 19, 1874. To THE EDITOR OF THE HERALD :— Lhave read your articles on Shakespeare with attention and tnterest, and, a8 1t was within my power to contribute a piece of information relat- ing to your Shakespearian articles, 1 volunteer the following, which | read in the American Historical Magazine for the year 1862:—A Washington cor- respondent of the Indianapolis Journal writes:— “An officer, strolling through an old burying: ground tn Fredericksvurg, a lew days ago, copies the following epitaph:—‘Here lies the body of Eaward Helder, practitioner mm physic and chi- rurgery, born in Bediordsnire, England, in the year oi our Lord 1542. Was contemporary with, and one of the palibearers oj, William Sihake- speare. After a brie! iliness his spirit ascended i the year of our Lord 1618, aged 76.) "" ae: 1 Ogee MOHAWK. Sarcasm—Pure and Simple. (From the St. Louis Republican.) ‘The discussion now progressing in New York about the authorship of Shakespeare's plays is one of the healthy signs of the times. It is a ques- tion which comes home to the bosoms of all families, and should be introduced as a popular study in the public schools. The literary world owes ab unpayubie debt to those who so nobly stand up for their Bacon, and it 1s avout time that we had thrown overboard such fossil remains ag Lord Southampton, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher and the other diverting vagabonds, The world for some time has been swindled into be- lieving these having known Shakespeare at the Globe, the Mermaid and other places where play- ers most did congregate in the days of “Eliza and our James;” but what has that to do with Shake- Speare as an author? . ‘that anybody at this advanced day and in this age Oi reason shonid believe that William Shake- speare wrote Shakespeare is arare conceit, and sunply proves that we are led by tradition and i not goverped by facts. That Bacon .1n his day should never have Deen found guilty of writing the piays of Shakespeare bas notuing to do with the Tight Of Ownersiip; but that Bill, the son of the poor bankrupt glover—who ran about the lanes of Shottery bareiooted, perhaps, and hit of Sir Thomas Lucy's deer in Chariecote range—that tins boy slould in Mis future have been capable of creating “Hamlet” aud “Macbeth” and the others, is simply, in @ manver, laughable. Genius is naturally aristocratic, Bacon m the halls of Verulam, hiding tom disgrace, might readily have conceived such immortality; but that the boy Who earned his “litte Latin and less Greek’? in the gramiinar school of Stratford, and afters horses at the theatre door in Southe Wark should have done 80, ts almost impossible. Itis very trae that the Karl of southampton was lis Iriend, that ve owned an interest in the Globe Theatre, that Ben Jonson wrote verses in bts honor, that good Queen Bess bade Masier Shake- Speare write ner a play in which the jolly knigut, Jack Faistai, should torsake the Chepe and be in love. 118 also true that Master Shallow, quarter- ing his three /uces, should stand 4s @ portrait for that same knight of Charecote agalust whom the lines and This ts ali very true, but then tt passes for nothing; for was not my Lord Bacoa the great man o! his time, and was it not reserved for @ Smith, and a Bacon christ- ened Deita, and a Holmes to discover in the nine teenth century that shakespeare was a dummy and that Bacon was Shakespeare? It 18, perhaps, singular, in proof of the Baconian theory, that in uo place is there any meution of Shakespeare’s name 1b connection with tue great Lora Bacon. In the earliest edition of the play! William Suakespeare ts distinctly identified by his publishers, This, perhaps, is nothing. He is the friend and protégé of Southampton, who is the Gallant young patron of literature. This, hows ever, is nothing. Jonson and Beaumont and Fletcher and Green, who hated him, all testity to Shakespeare, the dramatist, the poet, the actor @ud the wit, Ali the men connected with the Stage of that day certify to Shakespeare. But this is nothing. In tact, nothing is anytuing in prooft Of Shakespeare being Shakespeare in the minds of Delia Bacon and Holmes and one Smith, of Lon- don, Bacon is never menuoned in connection with the plays Of Shakespeare in any pacer of that day, and yet he must have written “Shakespeare,” becanse “Pope prouounces him “the wisest, greatest, meanest of mankind,” while Wu Shakespeare was buta poor, comparatively unedu- cated boy from the banks of Avon. Pope in nis cele- brated ine said more than vhs, and It seems as if the qualities wich he there bestowed on the great Lord Chancellor were legitimately transierred to those who would pull down Snakespeare from the niche of tame and pat up Francis Bacon in his plac Pope calis Bacon the ‘wisest, greatest, Meanest 0 mankind.” Pope was full of mean- ness himself, aud Was not as well fitted to pass judgment on toe jord of Veraiam as are the men of ‘he present day, Bacon was wise and he wag great, and Lowever true or false may have deen the charges preisrred against him by the House of Lords in all that followed tha’ Charge Of Drive-taking he developed no meanness. Certainly pone to the eXtent of attempting to deprive a mun greater than himself, iu one particuiay, of we honor of dramatic authorship. ‘That ueanuess which struts through magazine pag in the mic of at absurd vanity Was aniortug.tely reserved for our own time. nailed on the Charlecote gates. Making a Newspaper. [From the Indlanapotis Evening News,} TaB NEW YORK HERALD has a wonderful faculty Of starting a topic of public interest. By a well sustained effort for a lew days it has got all intellectual New York into @ wrangle as to the authorship of Shakespeare's plays. kven the spirit Of Shakespeare has Oo iterviewed and com- pelled to give testimon. DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC WORKS, Commissioner Van Nort makes the following Btatement of public moneys received oy the De« partment of Public Works during the week ending Saturday :— For Croton water rents and penaltles For tapping Crovon pipe ? . For vault permits For sewer permit For sewer pipe