Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 11

The effect of the latter was beautiful, as you may judge from the description which I have already given you of this facade, in one of my preceding letters. Let it suffice then to say, that, from the base of the lower pillars to the upper cornice, it was covered with lamps so arranged as to exhibit, in the most brilliant manner, the style and richness of its architecture.

The crowd, having now been attracted in various directions, became more penetrable; and, in regaining the platform on the _Place de la Concorde_, I had a full view of the turrets, battlements, &c. erected behind the three temples, in which the skilful machinist had so combined his plan, by introducing into it a sight of the famous horses brought from _Marly_, and now occupying the entrance of the _Champs Elysees_, that these beautiful marble representations of that n.o.ble animal seemed placed here on purpose to embellish his scenery.

Finding myself chilled by standing so many hours exposed to the dampness of a November night, I returned to the warmer atmosphere of the temples, in order to take a farewell view of the dancers. The scene was truly picturesque, the male part of the groups being chiefly composed of journeymen of various trades, and the females consisting of a ludicrous medley of all cla.s.ses; but it required no extraordinary penetration to perceive, that, with the exception of a few particular attachments, the military bore the bell, and, all things considered, this was no more than justice. Independently of being the best dancers, after gaining the laurels of victory in the hard-fought field, who can deny that they deserved the prize of beauty?

The dancing was kept up with the never-flagging vivacity peculiar to this nation, and, as I conclude, so continued till a very late hour in the morning. At half past eleven I withdrew, with a friend whom I chanced to meet, to Very's, the famous _restaurateur's_ in the _Tuileries_, where we supped. On comparing notes, I found that I had been more fortunate than he, in beholding to advantage all the sights of the day: though it was meant to be a day of jubilee, yet it was far from being productive of that mirth or gaiety which I expected.

The excessive dearness of a few articles of the first necessity may, probably, be one cause of this gloom among the people. Bread, the staff of life, (as it may be justly termed in France, where a much greater proportion is, in general, consumed than in any other country,) is now at the enormous price of eighteen _sous_ (nine-pence sterling) for the loaf of four pounds. Besides, the Parisians have gone through so much during the revolution, that I apprehend they are, to a certain degree, become callous to the spontaneous sensations of joy and pleasure. Be the cause what it may, I am positively a.s.sured that the people expressed not so much hilarity at this fete as at the last, I mean that of the 14th of July.

In my way home, I remarked that few houses were illuminated, except those of the rich in the streets which are great thorough-fares.

People here, in general, I suppose, consider themselves dispensed from lighting up their private residence from the consideration that they collectively contribute to the public illumination, the expenses of which are defrayed by the government out of the national coffers.

Several songs have been composed and published in commemoration of this joyful event. Among those that have fallen under my notice, I have selected the following, of which our friend M---s, with his usual facility and taste, will, I dare say, furnish you an imitation.

CHANT D'ALLeGRESSE,

_Pour la paix._

Air: _de la Marche Triomphante_.

_"Reviens pour consoler la terre, Aimable Paix, descends des cieux, Depuis a.s.sez long-tems la guerre Afflige un peuple genereux, Ah! quell' aurore pure & calme S'offre a nos regards satisfaits!

Nous obtenons la double paline De la victoire & de la paix._ bis.

_"Disparaissez tristes images, D'un tems malheureux qui n'est plus, Nous reparerons nos dommages Par la sagesse & les vertus.

Que la paix enfin nous rallie!

Plus d'ingrats ni de mecontens, O triomphe de la patrie!

Plus de Francais indifferens._ bis.

_"Revenez phalanges guerrieres, Heros vengeurs de mon pays, Au sein d'une epouse, d'un pere, De vos parens, de vos amis, Revenez dans votre patrie Apres tant d'effrayans hazards, Trouver ce qui charme la vie, L'amitie, l'amour, et les arts._ bis.

_"Oh! vous qui, sous des catacombes, Etes couches au champ d'honneur, Nos yeux sont fixes sur vos tombes, En chantant l'hymne du vainqueur, Nous transmettrons votre memoire Jusqu' aux siecles a venir, Avec le burin de l'histoire, Et les larmes du souvenir."_ bis.

SONG OF JOY,

_In honor of peace._ Imitated from the French.

To the same tune: _de la Marche Triomphante._

Come, lovely Peace, from heav'n descending, Thy presence earth at length shall grace; Those terrible afflictions ending, That long have griev'd a gen'rous race: We see Aurora rise refulgent; Serene she comes to bless our sight; While Fortune to our hopes indulgent, Bids victory and peace unite.

Be gone, ye dark imaginations, Remembrances of horrors past: Virtue's and Wisdom's reparations Shall soon be made, and ever last.

Now peace to happiness invites us; The bliss of peace is understood: With love fraternal peace delights us, Our private ease, and country's good.

Re-enter, sons of war, your houses; Heroic deeds for peace resign: Embrace your parents and your spouses, And all to whom your hearts incline: Behold your countrymen invite you, With open, arms, with open hearts; Here find whatever can delight you; Here friendship, love, and lib'ral arts.

Departed heroes, crown'd with glory, While you are laid in Honour's bed, Sad o'er your tombs we'll sing the story, How Gallia's warriors fought and bled: And, proud to shew to future ages The claims to patriot valour due, We'll vaunt, in our historic pages, The debt immense we owe to you.

LETTER XVI.

_Paris, November 13, 1801._

Enriched, as this capital now is, with the spoils of Greece and Italy, it may literally be termed the repository of the greatest curiosities existing. In the CENTRAL MUSEUM are collected all the prodigies of the fine arts, and, day after day, you may enjoy the sight of these wonders.

I know not whether you are satisfied with the abridged account I gave you of the GALLERY OF ANTIQUES; but, on the presumption that you did not expect from me a description of every work of sculpture contained in it, I called your attention to the most pre-eminent only; and I shall now pursue the same plan, respecting the master-pieces of painting exhibited in the great

GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE

This gallery, which is thirteen hundred and sixty-five feet in length by thirty in breadth, runs north and south all along the quays of the river Seine, and joins the _Louvre_ to the palace of the _Tuileries_.

It was begun by Charles IX, carried as far as the first wicket by Henry IV, to the second by Lewis XIII, and terminated by Lewis XIV.

One half, beginning from a narrow strip of ground, called the _Jardin de l'Infante_, is decorated externally with large pilasters of the Composite order, which run from top to bottom, and with pediments alternately triangular and elliptical, the tympanums of which, both on the side of the _Louvre_, and towards the river, are charged with emblems of the Arts and Sciences. The other part is ornamented with coupled pilasters, charged with vermiculated rustics, and other embellishments of highly-finished workmanship.

In the inside of this gallery are disposed the _chefs d'oeuvre_ of all the great masters of the Italian, Flemish, and French schools.

The pictures, particularly the historical ones, are hung according to the chronological order of the painters' birth, in different compartments, the number of which, at the present period, amounts to fifty-seven; and the productions of each school and of each master are as much as possible a.s.sembled; a method which affords the advantage of easily comparing one school to another, one master to another, and a master to himself. If the chronology of past ages be considered as a book from which instruction is to be imbibed, the propriety of such a cla.s.sification requires no eulogium. From the pictures being arranged chronologically, the GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE becomes a sort of dictionary, in which may be traced every degree of improvement or decline that the art of painting has successively experienced.

The entrance to the great GALLERY OF PAINTINGS is precisely the same as that to the GALLERY OF ANTIQUES. After ascending a n.o.ble stone stair-case, and turning to the left, you reach the

SALOON OF THE LOUVRE.

This apartment, which serves as a sort of antichamber to the great Gallery, is, at the present moment, appropriated to the annual monthly exhibition of the productions of living painters, sculptors, architects, engravers, and draughtsmen. Of these modern works, I shall, perhaps, speak on a future occasion. But, in the course of a few days, they will give place to several master-pieces of the Italian School, some of which were under indispensable repair, when the others were arranged in the great Gallery.

It would be no easy task to express the various sentiments which take possession of the mind of the lover of the arts, when, for the first time, he enters this splendid repository. By frequent visits, however, the imagination becomes somewhat less distracted, and the judgment, by degrees, begins to collect itself. Although I am not, like you, conversant in the Fine Arts, would you tax me with arrogance, were I to presume to pa.s.s an opinion on some of the pictures comprised in this matchless collection?

Painting being a representation of nature, every spectator, according to the justness of his ideas, may form an opinion how far the representation is happily pourtrayed, and in beholding it, experience a proportionate degree of pleasure: but how different the sensations of him who, combining all the requisites of a connoisseur, contemplates the composition of a masterly genius! In tracing the merits of such a production, his admiration gradually becomes inflamed, as his eye strays from beauty to beauty.

In painting or sculpture, beauty, as you well know, is either natural, or generally admitted: the latter depends on the perfection of the performance, on certain rules established, and principles settled. This is what is termed _ideal_ beauty, which is frequently not within the reach of the vulgar; and the merit of which may be lost on him who has not learned to know and appreciate it. Thus, one of the finest pictures, ever conceived and executed by man, might not, perhaps, make an impression on many spectators. Natural beauty, on the contrary, is a true imitation of nature: its effect is striking and general, so that it stands not in need of being pointed out, but is felt and admired by all.

Notwithstanding this truth, be a.s.sured that I should never, of my own accord, have ventured to p.r.o.nounce on the various degrees of merit of so many _chefs d'oeuvre_, which all at once solicit attention. This would require a depth of knowledge, a superiority of judgment, a nicety of discrimination, a fund of taste, a maturity of experience, to none of which have I any pretension. The greatest masters, who have excelled in a particular branch, have sometimes given to the world indifferent productions; while artists of moderate abilities have sometimes produced master-pieces far above their general standard. In a picture, which may, on the whole, merit the appellation of a _chef d'oeuvre_, are sometimes to be found beauties which render it superior, negligences which border on the indifferent, and defects which const.i.tute the bad. Genius has its flights and deviations; talent, its successes, attempts, and faults; and mediocrity even, its flashes and chances.

Whatever some persons may affect, a true knowledge of the art of painting is by no means an easy acquirement; it is not a natural gift, but demands much reading and study. Many there are, no doubt, who may be able to descant speciously enough, perhaps, on the perfections and defects of a picture; but, on that account alone, they are not to be regarded as real judges of its intrinsic merit.

Know then, that, in selecting the most remarkable productions among the vast number exhibited in the CENTRAL MUSEUM, I have had the good fortune to be directed by the same first-rate connoisseur who was so obliging as to fix my choice in the GALLERY OF ANTIQUES. I mean M.

VISCONTI.

Not confining myself either to alphabetical or chronological order, I shall proceed to point out to you such pictures of each school as claim particular notice.

ITALIAN SCHOOL.

N. B. _Those pictures to which no number is prefixed, are not yet publicly exhibited_.

RAFFAELLO.

N 55. (Saloon.) _The Virgin and Child, &c._ commonly known by the name of the _Madonna di Foligno_.

This is one of the master-pieces of RAPHAEL for vigour of colouring, and for the beauty of the heads and of the child. It is in his second manner; although his third is more perfect, seldom are the pictures of this last period entirely executed by himself. This picture was originally painted on pannel, and was in such a lamentable state of decay, that doubts arose whether it could safely be conveyed from Italy. It has been recently transferred to canva.s.s, and now appears as fresh and as vivid, as if, instead of a lapse of three centuries, three years only had pa.s.sed since it was painted. Never was an operation of the like nature performed in so masterly a manner. The process was attended by a Committee of the National Inst.i.tute, appointed at the particular request of the Administration of the Museum. The _Madonna di Foligno_ is to be engraved from a drawing taken by that able draughtsman DU TERTRE.