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French Furniture

There was quite scene at the Bois de Boulogne on Sunday. The press of carriages and the throng of promenaders was large, spite of the races at Chantilly, which had drawn off nearly all that portion of the habitués who ride on horseback, or drive themselves in light wagons. Such only as suffer themselves to be paraded by a coachman were present, but the avenues were quite full enough as it was. At about 4-1/2 o`clock, two mounted guards passed at a moderate trot. The Emperor is coming, said ever one. His Majesty followed about fifty rods behind, on horseback, flanked by a gentleman on either side. He looked better than I have ever seen him; in fact, he never appears to such advantage as on horseback. I could almost have applied the epithet distingue to him; he smiled and bowed at intervals, conversing gaily at the same time with his companions. Fifty rods behind, two guards brought up the rear, in a state of perpendicular solemnity eminently befitting the occasion. The pageant had already disappeared from view, having turned one of the corners, I believe, when two guides, their horses dripping with foam and sweating from exhaustion, dashed by, following the road the Emperor had taken. A sort of panic seized upon the promenaders. They rushed into the avenue to follow the messengers with their eyes. Ladies protruded flushed and excited faces from carriage windows, and asked their coachmen what was the matter. Is the Empress worse? Is there a raw in the faubburg? Has ST. ARNUAD made off with some money? These interrogatories were cut short by the return of the guides in the same steaming, droppy condition as before; the Emperor and his friends were keeping close in their wake, in order to profit by the passage they had opened, before the throng shut in again. His Majesty had no time to smile now, much less to bow; and the forest was left in bitter ignorance of what event of State it was that had interrupted the Emperor`s elegant leisure. Some one suggested the arrival of the Duke of Genoa; but that illustrious personage had been received by LOUIS NAPOLEON in person, three hours before. As nothing has transpired on the subject, I am inclined to consider the whole thing a bit of haute comedie; amateur theatricals, intended to impress the spectators with a wholesome sense of the wearisome burden of cares of State, by setting before them the spectacle of an afternoon holiday thus impertinently invaded. A profitable lesson may in this way be read to those who think that twenty-five millions a year is a desirable thing, and might contemplate a coup d`etat of their own. But the forest soon recovered its usual aspect of genteel indifference, and by the time the Emperor reached the Tuileries, the the Bois de Boulogne had regained its equanimity.

The Paris branch of the house of A. T. STEWART & Co., has received the orders for the refurnishing of the White House, at Washington. The French manufacturers, who are accustomed to see vast sums spent upon the internal decoration of the State palaces, are quite mortified at what they consider the insignificance of the appropriation. However, as the materials are to be simple, though elegant, the sum appointed will be made to go a great way.

During the last week, thirty-five distinct portraits of the Empress, on steel, stone, and copper, have made their appearance in the shop windows. They all err in one point - Her Majesty is slight in figure, and the designers seem to have thought it necessary to compensate for this deficiency by an enormous exaggeration of toilet. She appears in a redundancy of flounce, a development of skirt, and a general expansion of circumference, that is far from telling the truth about Her Majesty`s costume. I am afraid the artists have never seen the Empress, and have supposed that as Majesty deprived of its externals is a jest, (ride Joe Miller, Mince Pies, or any other book of conundrums,) they must put on as much external as possible. There is but one good portrait of our fair sovereign in existence, and that is at the Exposition, by DUNEFE, of the size of life, and in oil.

GENERAL CAVAIGNAC has a son. The Siecle announced the fact quite in the same style it would have adopted had CAVAIGNAC been still chief of the Executive Power. I do not imagine that LOUIS NAPOLEON has envied the ex-Dictator much of late, but this prompt consummation of his nuptials, is well calculated to make even an Emperor jealous. CAVAIGNAC married M`lle ODLOT, the Banker`s daughter, soon after the coup d`etat.

The Gazette de France, desiring an attractive title for its next feuilleton, announces it under the ghostly name of Hugo, the Corpse. The first part to be known as Who does the dungeon belong to? For a religious paper, this is rather a severe invasion upon the domain of the secular journals. But subscribers must be had upon any terms, and it is much better to sacrifice principle that dividends.

The Moniteur reminds petitioners that they have already several times been forbidden to thrust their documents upon the Emperor and Empress when they are riding or walking. The proper way is to hand tem to the porter of the palace, who has orders to lay them at once before His Majesty. This sort of notice has a good effect at a distance. It is, of course, untrue, that any petitioners are forced upon the Emperor during his promenades - not an instance has occurred for some months - but it is very well that the Provincials should be made to suppose that the Parisians are continually imploring the assistance and invoking the protection of their gracious sovereign. It strengthens the ideas already entertained of his power, his solidity, his benevolence, and the affection of his subjects. People address influence, control tremendous interests, and overflow with the milk of human kindness. Of course, the country edition of the Patrie has an editorial suggested by the Moniteur`s notice, entering into some statistical details upon the number of petitions presented and favorably acted upon. The country edition of the Patrie is made up of falsehoods too gross and monstrous to be inculcated in Paris. The Government itself publishes an organ of the same sort called the Moniteur des Communes. This contains delightfully enthusiastic accounts of the state of the country, and the unanimity of the inhabitants. It is sent by cart loads to the Prefects, who distribute and post it profusely. But never, by any chance, is a copy of it seen in Paris. The National Printing Office does an immense quantity of secret service of this kind, of which we shall probably never know anything till the Day of Judgment. But it will all come out then.

Paris is again becoming untenable, just as it was during the warm season last year. Whitewashing, demolition, and rebuilding, scraping, painting, and carting away ruins, are fast rendering life in the city an intolerable affliction. The Chinese Bath excavations have spoiled our promenade, the Strasburg Boulevard perforation, another; and you can hardly walk twenty rods without being showered with plaster, or driven into the streets by a man with a long stick all covered with lime, set there to warn you off the sidewalks, where bricks and timber have the Prefect`s permission to tumble in perfect indifference to what or who is passing underneath. But I suppose that you in New-York are born and bred to this state of things, and it is useless to expect sympathy from you. A man with a pain in his thumb might as well ask for pity from a man that had the toothache.

Rags and carpets, the designs of which represent episodes in Uncle Tom, are offered for sale by the upholsterers. The French had expressed much sympathy for the sufferings of the slave: but it seems that they mean to help the rest of the world in treading him under foot.

The Pope`s motive for abolishing paper money in the States of the Church is a curious one. He had been taken in by shin-plasters. It seems that it was necessary to get together a certain sum to pay the expenses of the canonization of Paul of the Holy Cross, who had founded some Order or other. The Pope subscribed 1,000 francs, and sent the amount in bills to Holy Paul. The said Paul went to a banker`s to get them cashed, and came near being arrested for circulating forged notes. When the Pope heard of this he was very much incensed, and sent for the Minister of Finance; and then and there the plan was devised of calling all the paper money.

The Moniteur contains an energetic protest against rumors that are current about the Emperor`s being out of money. The Emperor is not out of money, says the Moniteur. He does not want any addition to his civil list. Anybody who says he does, tells a base untruth. Nevertheless, the Moniteur to the contrary notwithstanding, the imperial purse would seem to be very nearly squeezed dry. The musicians of the Tuileries have not been paid for some months. Those magnificent Te Deums, which have awakened the echoes of the little chapel of the palace, have not been settled for. The bill for Domine salvum fac Ludovicum Napoleonem, is still unreceipted, and the unrequited Choir tell of it all round town. And everybody infers that, if the Emperor lets his affairs thus get into arrear, it is because he can`t keep up with them. From this, and other facts of the same sort, the report sprang up that he intended that the Senate should pass a supplementary Consultum, adding five millions a year to the Civil List. It is this outrageous calumny that the Moniteur indignantly denies. And this report asserts that the Emperor is going to borrow, and has authorized M. PEREIRE to negotiate a loan for him. The lenders are to receive four percent, and are to be repaid out of the Civil List of next year, or the year after, whenever LOUIS NAPOLEON has anything over to wipe out by gone debts with. You will not fail to be touched by the practical simplicity of the financial scheme. I cannot believe it will succeed, however. I believe I have seen everything that Paris can produce, but I have never, oh! Never, seen a man that wanted to lend money to LOUIS NAPOLEON. I have seen men who had lent him some, that wanted to get it back again. It would be awkward to be the creditor of a man whom you could not sue; no see, nor write to, nor have any sort of communication with, and who would whisk you off to Cayenne, if you became importunate. Still, if the Emperor has need of further supplies, I have no doubt he will get them.

I spoke, some weeks ago, of the concert in which the Album of Queen HORTENSE was sang through, from beginning to end, for the benefit of the poor of the Third Ward. I have now to state that this Album is for sale. The prospectus, which I have received by post, says that only a very few copies will be printed; in fact, the edition is intended exclusively for private circulation - for the public and imperial libraries, for the parlor tables of official personages, and for the studios of those who have remained true to t he noble and touching memory of the Artist Queen. Price of subscription, 80 francs. How I have obtained the honor of admission into the distinguished circle in which the Album is to be circulated, puzzles me very much. The only explanation which seems reasonable is, that the limited edition is merely a clever myth, intended to draw up customers, like the declarations of the Razor Strop Man, that he has only a few more left. On the second page are extracts from the Pays and Patrie, setting forth the merits of the work, and calling upon all lovers of art to furnish themselves with a copy of this truly elegant production. All this looks as if the publishers were seeking to expand their limited edition, and to extend their private circulation. In fact, I imagine that any one who wants the Album can have it - even though he do not mean to place it in an imperial library, or on the table of an official personage, and though he may not have remained faithful to the touching memory of the Artist Queen.

We have a gentleman here from Italy, said to be the brother of somebody in Sardinia, the King`s, I believe. He rides out in great state at the Bois, with an outrider in front to shout and stir up an emotion. When a prince visits France, it is always the custom of the Moniteur to make a parade of his accomplishments, and to set him down as especially excelling in some one pursuit or branch of science. The fort of the Duke of Genoa is said to be artillery. So, the very morning after his arrival, he went to Vincennes to see the soldiers fire at a target. Having thus supported the bold assertion of the Moniteur, which had said artillery - just as it would have said chowder or pancakes, - he relapsed into the traditional manners and customs of a prince who is traveling incognito. His real title is the Duke of Genoa; his assumed name is the Count of Govone. I heard a man speak yesterday of the Count of Govone, who is traveling under the pseudonym of the Duke of Genoa. Such is glory. The Duke goes to the review at Satory today. There is to be some artillery there in his especial honor. He will look with sublime indifference upon the drills of the infantry and the maneuvers of the cavalry; but, when it comes the turn of the field pieces, it is generally supposed that he will evince a keen interest in the proceedings. He is said to approve of the courageous initiative of LOUIS NAPOLEON, and to think that the getting out of the cannon on the Boulevards was a master stroke of art. Generally, their ideas on artillery coincide remarkably.

From an Italian prince to an Italian saint, the transition is easy. It seems that the vault in which the remains of ST. MARTIN had been deposited, had need of repairs. So the coffin of the saint was removed, and was for some purpose or other opened in the presence of the Chapter. What was the dismay of those gentlemen at discovering that the jewels, the tiara, the diamonds and other precious relics that h ad been buried with the body were no longer there! The bones had not been disturbed, however. Fifty years ago the jewels are known to have been safe, so that the robbery has been committed in the last half century, evidently. Whoever stole the diamonds, did perfectly right. Did not the priest who buried St. MARTIN remember the parable of the talents buried in a napkin! And is it not quite as bad to bury brilliants in a coffin! Why, it`s so much bread and butter laid on a shelf where we can get it, it`s an acre of ragged schools, or model lodging houses unpaid for; it`s so many hospitals unbuilt; a whole generation of little boys untaught. It`s a mile of railroad buried in a coffin. Though perhaps it is better that men should bury a railway there, than that a railway should bury men here, as you do at Norwalk. The priests are in a very bad way about St. MARTIN. For myself, I understand that the deceased was a brother of BETTY of the same name, so that the whole affair may very properly be considered as purely imaginative.

The next musical work from the pen of HALEVY is to be an opera comique in three sets, entitled The Nabab. The libretto is by the inexhaustible SCRIBE. Last night, after several delays and postponements, the Epreure Villageoise, by GRETRY, was revived by the Opera Comique. At the last general rehearsal, (with scenery, foot-light and costume,) M. AUBER, who was present, said to the manager, GRETRY`S orchestration ought to have been modernized a little; his antique style, to which the audiences of our day are unaccustomed, will be like enough to render the revival a failure. I am afraid so, replied the manager, but I knew of no one in whose hand the operation would be anything else but a profanation, except you, Mr. AUBER, and I did not dare to ask you to undertake so delicate a task. But I will undertake it, said AUBER, out of pure love for GRETRY and his most beautiful production, only say nothing about it. Let it be known by as few as possible. A week afterward, the orchestra, were ready with their revised edition, and last night the opera, renovated and adapted to modern ideas of bass-viols and kettle drums, was produced before a generation that had never heard it. M. AUBER`S collaborateur, which was to be kept as quiet as possible, is known to everybody that is interested in music. I heard of it at the club, three nights ago, and it has been in several papers since.

The success of Les Filles de Marbre increases and consolidates nightly. The feuilletons of Monday were more unanimous and hearty in their approbation than I remember to have seen them of late. The fact is, they were all ashamed of the colossal prosperity of the Dame aux Camelias, which, I doubt not, has done a great deal of harm. And now that the antidote has arrived, they seek to improve the opportunity to efface the effects of that pernicious play. Les Filles de Marbre are quite an event; they have arrived in time to fill up the few days that must elapse before the advent of Mrs. STOWE will furnish us with a universal topic of conversation. Madame DOCHE is both angry and mortified, for MARGEURITE GAUTIER is to be eclipsed by MARGOT, the courtesan. I said in my last that the new piece would see its seventieth night. JULES JANIN says that it will see its centennial celebration. I hope so; for the Dame aux Camelias was performed one hundred and ninety-two times in Paris, and a hundred in the Provinces. One objection to the new play is, that the denouement is unnecessarily tragic. The hero dies of broken heart. Now it is difficult to die of a broken heart on the stage. Poison, or a saber-cut, are much more swift and decisive. The authors were desirous of avoiding a disastrous termination, and it was their intention to make Raphael Didier throw off the spell of his fascinatress, reform, and marry Mademoiselle Marie, his good angel. But FECHTER insisted that, as Madame Doche died in the Filles de Marbre. I do not think a fatal upshot pleases in domestic dramas. The subject must be classical or historical, to render an audience willing to witness a catastrophe. However, the piece is quite successful enough, tragic as it is.

A horse was killed the other day at the Hippodrome, owing to the tremendous effort required to jump the artificial river that had been dug along the course of the steeple-chase. The veterinary surgeon announced that the accident was due to a rupture de coeur - a broken heart. This fact deserves to be classed with the recent suicides of a dog on the sea-shore, from general disgust with life, and because he was getting blind.

The bans of the marriage of MADELINE BROHAN with Mr. NICHOLAS MARIE ACHARD, gentleman, are published at the Mayor`s Office of the First Ward. In announcing this alliance, some weeks ago, I spelt the bridegroom`s name PLUCHARD. It is with pleasure that I make the correction, as PLUCHARD is not a pretty name in French.

The fourth farce on Turning Tables has appeared. It was improvised in 24 hours, by three authors, who did not rise from their seats during one revolution of the sun. Mr. SANDS, of New York, introduces his antipodal feat in this piece.

The Black Swan of Europe, Mdlle. MARIA MARTINEZ, called here LA MALIBRAN Noire, had a benefit at the Italian Opera on Tuesday night. The house has been leased by a Spanish Company, who open with Marivilla, next week. RACHEL leaves for London after two more evening here. During the summer the Theatre in the Palace of the Tuileries is to be remodeled and redecorated throughout, so that the Emperor considers himself sure of six moths more at least.