Paris and the Parisians in 1835 Volume I Part 20

I replied that I had not that pleasure.

"It is he who was sitting opposite to you in the _salon_."

I begged that she would introduce him to me; and upon our returning to the drawing-room she did so. The conversation was resumed, and most agreeably--every one bore a part in it. Lamartine, Casimir Delavigne, Dumas, Victor Hugo, and some others, pa.s.sed under a light but clever and acute review. Our Byron, Scott, &c. followed; and it was evident that they had been read and understood. I asked M. de Chateaubriand if he had known Lord Byron: he replied, "Non;" adding, "Je l'avais precede dans la vie, et malheureus.e.m.e.nt il m'a precede au tombeau."

The degree in which any country is capable of fully appreciating the literature of another was canva.s.sed, and M. de Chateaubriand declared himself decidedly of opinion that such appreciation was always and necessarily very imperfect. Much that he said on the subject appeared incontrovertibly true, especially as respecting the slight and delicate shadows of expression of which the subtile grace so constantly seems to escape at the first attempt to convert it into another idiom. Nevertheless, I suspect that the majority of English readers--I mean the English readers of French--are more _au fait_ of the original literature of France than M. de Chateaubriand supposes.

The habit, so widely extended amongst us, of reading this language almost from infancy, gives us a greater familiarity with their idiom than he is aware of. He doubted if we could relish Moliere, and named Lafontaine as one beyond the reach of extra-Gallican criticism or enjoyment.

I cannot agree to this, though I am not surprised that such an idea should exist. Every English person that comes to Paris is absolutely obliged to speak French, almost whether they can or can not. If they shrink from doing so, they can have no hope of either speaking or being spoken to at all. This is alone sufficient to account very satisfactorily, I think, for any doubt which may prevail as to the national proficiency in the language. No Frenchman that is at all in the habit of meeting the English in society but must have his ears and his memory full of false concords, false tenses, and false accents; and can we wonder that he should set it down as a certain fact, that they who thus speak cannot be said to understand the language they so mangle? Yet, plausible as the inference is, I doubt if it be altogether just. Which of the most accomplished h.e.l.lenists of either country would be found capable of sustaining a familiar conversation in Greek? The case is precisely the same; for I have known very many whose power of tasting the beauty of French writing amounted to the most critical acuteness, who would have probably been unintelligible had they attempted to converse in the language for five minutes together; whereas many others, who have perhaps had a French valet or waiting-maid, may possess a pa.s.sably good accent and great facility of imitative expression in conversation, who yet would be puzzled how to construe with critical accuracy the easiest pa.s.sage in Rousseau.

A very considerable proportion of the educated French read English, and often appear to enter very ably into the spirit of our authors; but there is not one in fifty of these who will p.r.o.nounce a single word of the language in conversation. Though they endure with a polite gravity, perfectly imperturbable, the very drollest blunders of which language is capable, they cannot endure to run the risk of making blunders in return. Everything connected with the externals of good society is held as sacred by the members of it; and if they shrink from offending _la bienseance_ by laughing at the mistakes of others, they avoid, with at least an equal degree of caution, the unpardonable offence of committing any themselves.

I do not believe that it would be possible for a French person to enter into conversation merely for the pleasure of conversing, and not from the pressure of absolute necessity, unless he were certain, or at least believed himself to be so, that he should express himself with propriety and elegance. The idea of uttering the brightest or the n.o.blest thought that ever entered a human head, in an idiom ridiculously broken, would, I am sure, be accompanied with a feeling of repugnance sufficient to tame the most animated and silence the most loquacious Frenchman in existence.

It therefore falls wholly upon the English, in this happy period of constant and intimate intercourse between the nations, to submit to the surrender of their vanity, to gratify their love for conversation; blundering on in conscious defiance of grammar and accent, rather than lose the exceeding pleasure of listening in return to the polished phrase, the graceful period, the epigrammatic turn, which make so essential a part of genuine high-bred French conversation.

But the doubts expressed by M. de Chateaubriand as to the possibility of the last and best grace of French writing being fully appreciated by foreigners, was not confined wholly to the English,--the Germans appeared to share it with us; and one who has been recently proclaimed as the first of living German critics was quoted as having confounded in his style, names found among the immortals of the French Pantheon, with those of such as live and die; _Monsieur_ Fontaine, and _Monsieur_ Bruyere, being expressions actually extant in his writings.

More than once, during subsequent visits to Madame Recamier, I led her to speak of her lost and ill.u.s.trious friend. I have never been more interested than while listening to all which this charming woman said of Madame de Stael: every word she uttered seemed a mixture of pain and pleasure, of enthusiasm and regret. It is melancholy to think how utterly impossible it is that she should ever find another to replace her. She seems to feel this, and to have surrounded herself by everything that can contribute to keep the recollection of what is for ever gone, fresh in her memory. The original of the posthumous portrait of Madame de Stael by Gerard, made so familiar to all the world by engravings--nay, even by Sevres vases and tea-cups, hangs in her bed-room. The miniature I have mentioned is always near her; and the inspired figure of her Corinne, in which it is evident that Madame Recamier traces a resemblance to her friend beyond that of features only, appears to be an object almost of veneration as well as love.

It is delightful to approach thus to a being that I have always been accustomed to contemplate as something in the clouds. Admirable and amiable as my charming new acquaintance is in a hundred ways, her past intimacy and ever-enduring affection for Madame de Stael have given her a still higher interest in my eyes.

LETTER x.x.xI.

Exhibition of Sevres China at the Louvre.--Gobelins and Beauvais Tapestry.--Legitimatist Father and Doctrinaire Son.--Copies from the Medicean Gallery.

We are just returned from an exhibition at the Louvre; and a very splendid exhibition it is--though, alas! but a poor consolation for the hidden treasures of the picture-gallery. Several magnificent rooms are now open for the display of works in tapestry and Sevres porcelain; and however much we might have preferred seeing something else there, it is impossible to deny that these rooms contain many objects as wonderful perhaps in their way as any that the higher branches of art ever produced.

The copy of t.i.tian's portrait of his mistress, on porcelain, and still more perhaps that of Raphael's "Virgin and St. John watching the sleep of the infant Jesus," (the _Parce somnum rumpere_,) are, I think, the most remarkable; both being of the same size as the originals, and performed with a perfection of colouring that is almost inconceivable.

That the fragile clay of which porcelain is fabricated should so lend itself to the skill of the workman,--or rather, that the workman's skill should so triumph over the million chances which exist against bringing unbroken out of the fire a smooth and level _plaque_ of such extent,--is indeed most wonderful. Still more so is the skill which has enabled the artist to prophesy, as he painted with his greys and his greens, that the tints which flowed from his pencil of one colour, should a.s.sume, from the nicely-regulated action of an element the most difficult to govern, hues and shades so exquisitely imitative of his great original.

But having acknowledged this, I have nothing more to say in praise of a _tour de force_ which, in my opinion, can only be attempted by the sacrifice of common sense. The _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of a t.i.tian or a Raphael are treasures of which we may lawfully covet an imitation; but why should it be attempted in a manner the most difficult, the most laborious, the most likely to fail, and the most liable to destruction when completed?--not to mention that, after all, there is in the most perfect copy on porcelain a something--I am mistress of no words to define it--which does not satisfy the mind.

As far as regards my own feelings indeed, I could go farther, and say that the effect produced is to a certain degree positively disagreeable,--not quite unlike that occasioned by examining needlework performed without fingers, or watch-papers exquisitely cut out by feet instead of hands. The admiration demanded is less for the thing itself, than for the very defective means employed to produce it. Were there indeed none other, the inventor would deserve a statue, and the artist, like Trisotin, should take the air "_en carrosse dore_:" but as it is, I would rather see a good copy on canva.s.s than on china.

Far different, however, is the effect produced by this beautiful and ingenious branch of art when displayed in the embellishment of cups and plates, vases and tea-trays. I never saw anything more gracefully appropriate to the last high finish of domestic elegance than all the articles of this description exhibited this year at the Louvre. It is impossible to admire or to praise them too much; or to deny that, wonderfully as similar manufactories have improved in England within the last thirty years, we have still nothing equal to the finer specimens of the Sevres porcelain.

These rooms were, like every other place in Paris where human beings know that they shall meet each other, extremely full of company; and I have certainly never seen such ecstasy of admiration produced by any objects exhibited to the public eye, as was elicited by some of the articles displayed on this occasion: they are indeed most beautiful; the form, the material, the workmans.h.i.+p, all perfect.

The Sevres manufactory must, I think, have some individuals attached to it who have made the theory of colour an especial study. It is worth while to walk round the vast table, or rather platform, raised in the middle of the apartment, for the purpose of examining the different sets, with a view only to observe the effect produced on the eye by the arrangement of colours in each.

The finest specimens, after the wonderful copies from pictures which I have already mentioned, are small breakfast-sets--for a _tete-a-tete_, I believe,--enclosed in large cases lined either with white satin or white velvet. These cases are all open for inspection, but with a stout bra.s.s bar around, to protect them from the peril of too near an approach. The lid is so formed as exactly to receive the tray; while the articles to be placed upon it, when in use, are arranged each in its own delicate recess, with such an attention to composition and general effect as to show all and everything to the greatest possible advantage.

Some of these exquisite specimens are decorated with flowers, some with landscapes, and others with figures, or miniatures of heads, either superlative in beauty or distinguished by fame. These beautiful decorations, admirable as they all are in design and execution, struck me less than the perfect taste with which the reigning colour which pervades each set, either as background, lining, or border, is made to harmonize with the ornaments upon it.

It is a positive pleasure, independent of the amus.e.m.e.nt which may be derived from a closer examination, to cast the eye over the general effect produced by the consummate taste and skill thus displayed.

Those curious affinities and antipathies among colours, which I have seen made the subject of many pretty experimental lectures, must, I am sure, have been studied and acted upon by the _colour-master_ of each department; and the result is to my feelings productive of a pleasure, from the contemplation of the effect produced, as distinct from the examination of the design, or of any other circ.u.mstance connected with the art, as the gratification produced by the smell of an orange-blossom or a rose: it is a pleasure which has no connexion with the intellect, but arises solely from its agreeable effect on the sense.

The eye seems to be unconsciously soothed and gratified, and lingers upon the rich, the soft, or the brilliant hues, with a satisfaction that positively amounts to enjoyment.

Whoever may be occupied by the "delightful task" of fitting up a sumptuous drawing-room, will do well to take a tour round a room filled with sets of Sevres porcelain. The important question of "What colours shall we mix?" would receive an answer there, with the delightful certainty that no solecism in taste could possibly be committed by obeying it.

The Gobelins and Beauvais work for chairs, screens, cus.h.i.+ons, and various other articles, makes a great display this year. It is very beautiful, both in design and execution; and at the present moment, when the stately magnificence of the age of Louis Quinze is so much in vogue--in compliment, it is said, to the taste of the Duc d'Orleans,--this costly manufacture is likely again to flourish.

Never can a large and lofty chamber present an appearance of more princely magnificence than when thus decorated; and the manner in which this elaborate style of ancient embellishment is now adopted to modern use, is equally ingenious and elegant.

Some political economists talk of the national advantage of decreasing labour by machinery, while others advocate every fas.h.i.+on which demands the work of hands. I will not attempt to decide on which side wisdom lies; but, in our present imperfect condition, everything that brings an innocent and profitable occupation to women appears to me desirable.

The needles of France are a.s.suredly the most skilful in the world; and set to work as they are upon designs that rival those of the Vatican in elegance, they produce a perfection of embroidery that sets all compet.i.tion at defiance.

In pursuing my way along the rail which encloses the specimens exhibited--a progress which was necessarily very slow from the pressure of the crowd,--I followed close behind a tall, elegant, aristocratic-looking gentleman, who was accompanied by his son--decidedly his son,--the boy "fathered himself;" I never saw a stronger likeness. Their conversation, which I overheard by no act of impertinent listening, but because I could not possibly avoid it, amused me much. I am seldom thrown into such close contact with strangers without making a fancy-sketch of who and what they are; but upon this occasion I was thrown out,--it was like reading a novel, the _denouement_ of which is so well concealed as to evade guessing. The boy and his father were not of one mind; their observations were made in the spirit of different parties: the father, I suspect, was a royalist,--the son, I am sure, was a young doctrinaire. The crowd hung long upon the spot where a magnificent collection of embroidery for the seats and backs of a set of chairs was displayed. "They are for the Duke of Orleans," said the father.

"Yes, yes," said the boy; "they are fit for him--they are princely."

"They are fit for a king!" said the father with a sigh.

The lad paused for a moment, and then said, _avec intention_, as the stage directions express it, "Mais lui aussi, il est fils de St.

Louis; n'est-ce pas?" The father answered not, and the crowd moved on.

All I could make of this was, that the boy's instructor, whether male or female, was a faithful disciple of the "_PARCEQU'il est Bourbon_"

school; and whatever leaven of wavering faith may be mixed up with this doctrine, it forms perhaps the best defence to be found for attachment to the reigning dynasty amongst those who are too young to enter fully into the expediency part of the question.

In the last of the suite of rooms opened for this exhibition, are displayed splendid pieces of tapestry from subjects taken from Rubens'

Medicean Gallery.

That the achievement of these enormous combinations of st.i.tches must have been a labour of extreme difficulty, there can be no doubt; but notwithstanding my admiration for French needles, I am tempted to add, in the words of our uncompromising moralist, "Would it had been impossible!"

LETTER x.x.xII.

Eglise Apostolique Francaise.--Its doctrine.--L'Abbe Auzou.--His Sermon on "les Plaisirs Populaires."

Among the mult.i.tude of friendly injunctions to see this, and to hear that, which have produced me so much agreeable occupation, I have more than once been very earnestly recommended to visit the "Eglise Apostolique Francaise" on the Boulevard St. Denis, for the purpose of hearing l'Abbe Auzou, and still more, that I might have an opportunity of observing the peculiarities of this mode of wors.h.i.+p, or rather of doctrine; for, in fact, the ceremonies at the altar differ but little, as far as I can perceive, from those of the Church of Rome, excepting that the evident poverty of the establishment precludes the splendour which usually attends the performance of its offices. I have no very satisfactory data by which to judge of the degree of estimation in which this new sect is held: by some I have heard them spoken of as apostles, and by others as a Paria caste unworthy of any notice.

Before hearing M. L'Abbe Auzou, or attending the service at his church, I wished to read some of the publications which explain their tenets, and accordingly called at the little bureau behind their chapel on the Boulevard St. Denis, where we were told these publications could be found. Having purchased several pamphlets containing catechism, hymns, sermons, and so forth, we entered into conversation with the young man who presided in this obscure and dark closet, dignified by the name of "Secretariat de l'Eglise Apostolique Francaise."

He told us that he was a.s.sistant minister of the chapel, and we found him extremely conversible and communicative.

The chief differences between this new church and those which have preceded it in the reform of the Roman Catholic religion, appears to consist in the preservation of the external forms of wors.h.i.+p, which other reformers have rejected, and also of several dogmas, purely doctrinal, and wholly unconnected with those principles of church power and church discipline, the abuse of which was the immediate cause of all protestant reform.