unforeseen and ingenious allusion. Figure to yourself too the prettiest little natural graces, in his manner of relating and in his gesticulation, and you may conceive what pleasure we derived from the contrast between the profound sense of the story and the bantering air of him who told it. I do not at all exaggerate when I say that we forgot everything in order to hear him, for whole hours together. But, when his part was played, he was like a cipher in the company; and, sad and mute in a corner, he had the air of impatiently waiting the watchword to re-enter on the stage. It was with his arguments as with his stories; he would be listened to. If he were sometimes interrupted, he would say, "Let me but finish, and you shall soon have full leisure to answer me." And when, after having described a long circle of inductions (for that was his way), he at last concluded, if any one showed an inclination to reply to him, you might see him slide in among the crowd, and quietly escape. customs, and the policy of nations on a large scale; and, if he cited some particular features of them, it was only as examples, and in support of the inferences he drew. In knowledge, his riches were inexhaustible, and he distributed them with the most engaging simplicity; beside, he had in our eyes the merit of being an excellent man. Not one of us would have thought of making a friend of the Abbé Galiani; each of us was ambitious of the friendship of Caraccioli; and I, who have long enjoyed it, cannot express how desirable it was. But one of the men to whom I have been most dear, and whom I have most tenderly loved, has been the Count de Creutz. He too was of the literary society and dinners at Madame Geoffrin's; less eager to please, less occupied with the care of attracting attention, often pensive, still oftener absent, but the most charming of the convivial circle, when without distraction he gave himself freely to us. It was to him that nature had really given Caraccioli, at first sight, had in his phys- sensibility, warmth, the delicacy of moral iognomy the dull and heavy air with which sentiment and that of taste; the love you would paint stupidity. To animate of all that is beautiful, and the passion his eyes and disengage his features, it was of genius as well as that of virtue it was necessary that he should speak. But to him that she had granted the gift of then, and in proportion as that lively, expressing and painting in touches of fire, piercing, and luminous intelligence with all that had struck his imagination or which he was gifted, awoke, it sent forth vividly seized on his soul: never was a beams of light; and acuteness, gaiety, man born a poet, if this man were not so. originality of thought, simplicity of ex- Still young, his mind ornamented with a pression, the grace of an animated smile, prodigious variety of information, speakand a look of sensibility, all united to give ing French like ourselves, and almost all an engaging, intelligent, and interesting the languages of Europe like his own, character to ugliness. He spoke our lan- without reckoning the learned languages, guage ill, and painfully; but he was elo- versed in all kinds of ancient and modern quent in his own; and when the French literature, talking of chymistry as a chymterm did not occur to him, he used to bor- ist, of natural history as a pupil of Linrow the word, the turn, the image he neus, and particularly of climates and of wanted, from the Italian. Thus he every their divers productions; he was for us a moment enriched his language with a thou-source of knowledge, embellished with the sand bold and picturesque expressions that most brilliant elocution. excited our envy. He accompanied them too with those Neapolitan gestures that, in the Abbé Galiani, so well animated expressions; and it was said of both of them, that they had wit even to their fingers' ends. Both, too, had excellent stories, almost all of which had a delicate, moral, and profound meaning. Caraccioli had studied men as a philosopher; but he had observed them more as a politician and a statesman, than as a satirical moralist. He had contemplated the manners, the This may suffice to make you feel what interest and what a charm this rendezvous of men of letters must have had. For my own part, I kept my corner there, neither too bold, nor too timid; gay, simple, and even somewhat free; well liked in the society, dear to those I most loved and esteemed. With respect to Madame Geoffrin, though I lived at her house, I was not one of the first in her favor; yet she was pleased with me for animating the company in my turn, and pretty often too. either by little stories, or by traits of pleasantry that I accommodated to her taste; but, as to my personal conduct, I had not enough complaisance in consulting her, and in following the advice she gave me; and on her part she had so little confidence in my prudence, that she feared lest I should occasion her some of those vexations that she sometimes suffered from the imprudence of her friends. With me, therefore, she was on a tone of timid and cautious kindness; but I would not suffer myself to be governed. but a common man. Soufflot was a man of sense, very circumspect in his conduct, a skilful and learned architect; but his ideas were all inscribed within the circle of his compass. Boucher had some fire in his imagination, but little truth, and still less dignity; the graces he had seen were not of a good family; he and his language as well as his pictures, savored of the manners and tone of his models. Lemoine, the sculptor, tenderly inclined our hearts to friendship by the modest simplicity that accompanied his genius; but even on his art, which he knew so well, he spoke little; and he scarcely answered to the praises that were given him: a pleasing timidity in a man whose look was all mind and all soul. Latour had some enthusiasm, and he employed it in painting the philosophers of that time. But his brain was so disturbed about politics and morality, on which he thought he reasoned most learnedly, that he fancied himself humbled if you talked to him of painting. You have, painted by him, my dear children, a sketch of my portrait; it was a return for the complaisance with which I listened to him, regulating the destinies of Europe. With the rest, I instructed myself on what concerned their art; and hence these dinners of artists had for me their interest of pleasure and utility. At the same time she saw me succeeding with her whole society: and at her Monday's dinner I was not less kindly welcomed than at her literary banquet. The artists liked me, because, at once curious and docile, I talked to them incessantly of what they knew better than I. I have forgotten to say that, under my lodgings, at Versailles, was a large room filled with pictures that were taken successively to decorate the palace, and which were almost all from the pencil of the greatest masters. This room was my recreation, my morning's walk; I used to pass hours together there with the good Portail, the worthy guardian of this treasure, in conversing with him on the genius and manner of the different schools of Italy, and on the distinctive character of the great masters. In the gardens I had Among the amateurs who partook of formed some comparative ideas of ancient these dinners, there were some well imand modern sculpture. These prelim-bued with good studies. With these I inary studies enabled me to reason with our artists, and, by leaving them the advantage and the amusement of instructing me, I had in their eyes the merit of being delighted to listen to them, and to profit by their lessons. With them I took great care to display no other literary knowledge than that which interested the fine arts. I had no difficulty in perceiving that, with good natural understandings, they almost all wanted information and culture. The good Carle-Vanloo possessed, in a high degree, all the talent that a painter could have without genius; but he had no inspiration; and to supply it, he had cultivated but few of those studies that elevate the soul, and fill the imagination with great objects and great ideas. Vernet, admirable in the art of painting water, air, light, and the play of the elements, had all the models of his compositions very vividly present to his fancy; but beyond that, although gay enough, he was had no difficulty in varying the conversation, nor in reviving it when it languished; and they seemed to be well pleased with my manner of conversing with them. One of them alone showed me no kindness and, in his cold politeness, I perceived aversion; it was the Count de Caylus. I cannot say which of the two had anticipated the other; but I had scarcely known his character when I conceived as strong a dislike to him as ever he felt to me. I never gave myself the trouble of examining in what I could have displeased him. But I well knew what displeased me in him. It was the importance he gave himself for the most futile merit, and the most trivial of talents; it was the value he attached to his minute researches, and to his antique gew-gaws; it was the kind of sovereignty he had usurped over the artists, and which he abused, by favoring ordinary talents that paid their court to him, and PORTRAITS. by depressing those that, bolder in their | Rohan. But I suspect that, at that time, force, did not go to solicit his support. he gave the apple to Minerva; for, to my It was, in short, a very adroit and very mind, the Venus of the supper was the refined vanity, and a most bitter and im- seducing and engaging d'Egmont. She perious pride, under the rough and simple was the daughter of Marshal Richelieu ; forms in which he had the art of develop- and she had the vivacity, the wit, the ing it. Supple and pliant with the place- graces of her father; she had too, as was men on whom the artists depended, he said, his volatile and voluptuous dispoobtained a credit with the former, whose sition; but this was what neither Madame influence was dreaded by the latter. He Geoffrin nor myself had any appearance insinuated himself into the company of of knowing. The young Marchioness de men of information, and persuaded them Duras, with as much of modesty as Mato write memorials on the toys he had dame d'Egmont had of charming grace, bought at his broker's; he made a mag- gave us the idea of Juno, by her noble nificent collection of this trumpery, which severity, and by a character of beauty he called antique; he proposed prizes on that had neither elegance nor delicacy. Isis and Osiris, in order to have the air As for the Countess de Brionne, if she of being himself initiated in their mys- were not Venus herself, it was not that in teries; and with his charlatanism of eru- the perfect regularity of her form, and of dition, he crept into the academies with- all her features, she did not unite all that out knowing either Greek or Latin. He can be imagined to paint ideal beauty. so often said, and had it published, Of all charms, she wanted but one, withby those whom he paid to praise him, out which there is no Venus on earth, that in architecture he was the re- and which formed the witchery of Mastorer of the simple style, of simple dame d'Egmont; it was an air of voluptuAs to the prince de Rohan, he beauty, of beautiful simplicity, that the ousness. was young, active, wild, with a good ignorant believed it: and by his correspondence with the Dilettanti, he made heart, lofty by starts, when in concurrence himself in Italy and in all Europe with dignities that rivalled his own, but pass I felt gayly familiar with men of letters, who for the inspirer of the fine arts. were free and simple like myself. for him, then, that species of natural antipathy that ingenuous and simple men always feel for impostors. After having dined at Madame Geoffrin's with men of letters or with the artists, I was again with her in the evening in a more intimate society; for she had also granted me the favor of admitting me to her little suppers. The feast was very moderate, it was commonly a chicken, some spinage, an omelet. The company were not numerous; they consisted at most of five or six of her particular friends, or of three or four men and women of the first fashion, selected to their taste, and reciprocally happy to be together. But whatever these convivial circles might be, Bernard and I were admitted to them. One of them only had excluded Bernard, but had approved of me. The group that composed it consisted of three ladies and but one gentleThe three ladies, who might well be likened to the three goddesses of Mount Ida, were the beautiful Countess de Brionne, the beautiful Marchioness de Duras, and the charming Countess d'Egmont. Their Paris was the Prince Louis de man. You may readily conceive that at these little suppers my self-love was in league with all the means I might have of being amusing and agreeable. The new tales that I was then writing, and of which these ladies had the first offerings, were, before or after supper, an entertaining reading for them. They gave each other rendezvous to hear them, and when the little supper was prevented by any accident, they assembled at dinner at Madame de Brionne's. I confess that no success over flattered me so sensibly as that which these readings obtained in this little circle, where wit, taste, beauty, all the graces, were my judges, or rather my applauders. There was not a single trait either in my coloring or my dialogue, however minutely delicate and subtle, that was not forcibly felt; and the pleasure I gave had the air What enraptured me of enchantment. was to see so perfectly the most beautiful eyes in the world swimming in tears, at the little touching scenes where I made But in spite of the love or nature weep. indulgence of an excessive politeness, I well perceived too the cold and feeble pas " sages which they passed over in silence, as well as those where I had mistaken the word, the tone of nature, or the just shade of truth; and these passages I noted, to correct them at my leisure. From the idea I give you of Madame Geoffrin's society, you will doubtless imagine that to me it might well have supplied the place of all other company. But I had some old and good friends at Paris, who were very happy to see me again, and with whom I was highly delighted to pass again some of my leisure hours. Madame Harenc, Madame Desfourniels, Mademoiselle Clairon, and particularly Madame d'Heronville, had a right to partake of my dearest moments. I had myself too some new friends, whose society was very charming. Besides, I had well observed, that to be estimated by Madame Geoffrin at your real value, it was necessary to preserve with her a certain medium between negli gence and assiduity; neither to let her complain of the one, nor weary herself with the other; and, in the attentions you showed her, to neglect nothing, but to be prodigal of nothing. Eager attentions oppressed her; even of the most engaging society, she would only take just what suited her inclination, at her own hours and at her ease. I therefore imperceptibly sought occasion of having some sacrifice to make to her; and, in talking of the life I led in society, I made her understand, without affectation, that the time I passed at her house might have been very gratefully spent elsewhere. It is thus that, during the ten years I was her tenant, without inspiring in her any very tender friendship, I never lost either her esteem or her favor; and, till her unfortunate paralytic affection, I never ceased to be of the number of those men of letters who were her convivial companions and her friends. Yet I should tell the whole truth; Madame Geoffrin's society wanted one of the pleasures that I esteem most highlyliberty of thought. With her gentle come, that's well, she never ceased to keep our minds as it were in leading strings; and I partook of dinners elsewhere at which there was more freedom. The freest, or rather the most licentious, of all was that which was given every week by a farmer-general, whose name was Pelletier, to eight or ten bachelors, all jovial friends. At this dinner, the men of the wildest heads were Collé and young Crebillon. Between them it was a continual assault of excellent pleasantry, and he that would, mixed in the combat. They never indulged in personality; the self-love of talent was alone attacked, but it was attacked without indulgence; and it was requisite to shake it off and sacrifice it on entering the lists. Collé was brilliant there beyond all expression; and Crebillon, his adversary, had singularly the address of animating by exciting him. Wearied of being an idle spectator, I sometimes darted into the circle at my risk and peril, and I received lessons of modesty that were rather severe. Sometimes, too, a certain Monticourt would engage in the dispute, adroit and delicate in his pleasantry, and what was then called a banterer of the first rate. But the literary vanity, which he attacked with the arm of ridicule, afforded us no hold on him; in avowing himself destitute of talents, he rendered himself invulnerable to criticism. I used to compare him to a cat, that lying on his back, with his paws in the air, only presented to us his claws. The rest of the company laughed at our attacks, and this pleasure was permitted them; but when gaiety, ceasing to indulge in raillery, quitted the arm of criticism, all were emulous of contributing to it. Bernard alone (for he too was of these diners) kept himself always in reserve. The contrast between the character of Bernard and his reputation is a very singular thing. The nature of his poetry might well have procured him, in his youth, the epithet of Gentil; but he was anything rather than gentil, when I knew him. With women he had then only a worn-out gallantry; and when he had said to one that she was fresh as Hebe, or that she had the complexion of Flora; to another that she had the smile of the graces, or the figure of the nymphs, he had said everything to them. I have seen him at Choisy, at the fete des roses, which he celebrated there every year in a kind of little temple that he had decorated with opera scenes, and which, on that day, he ornamented with so many garlands of roses that the whole company complained of the headache. This fete was a supper, where the women fancied themselves all the divinities of spring. Bernard was the highpriest. Most certainly it was for him the moment of inspiration, had he been in the Never was the fire of gaiety of so regular and so fruitful a warmth. I cannot now tell you at what we laughed so much; but I well know that at every turn he made us all laugh till the tears started in our eyes. His fancy, when once exalted, made everything appear comic and ridiculous. It is true, he often sinned against decency; but at this dinner we were not excessively severe on that point. WE PARTED IN SILENCE. [Mrs. Julia Crawford, poetess, author of the following fine poetical fragment, was born in Ireland, and died about 1855.] We parted in silence, we parted by night, On the banks of that lonely river; Where the soul wears its mantle of glory. With the tears that were past controlling; And those vows at the time were consoling. And now on the midnight sky I look, Some tale of that loved one keeping. But the odor and bloom of those bygone years On the banks of that lonely river; Shall hang o'er its waters forever. LOVE'S EARLY DREAM. A singular incident broke up this jovial society. Pelletier fell in love with a fair adventurer, who made him believe that she was the daughter of Louis XV. She used to go every Sunday to Versailles, to see, as she said, her sisters the princesses; and she always returned with some little present; it was a ring, a case, a watch, or a box with the portrait of one of these land, Fireside Tales, Social Distinction, etc.] ladies. Pelletier, who had some underderstanding, but a weak and light head, believed all this; and in great mystery he married this little gipsy. From that time, you may well suppose that his house no longer suited us; and he, soon afterward, having discovered his mistake and the shameful folly he had committed, became mad, and went to die at Cha [Mrs. Sarah Stickney Ellis, an Englishwoman, born about 1812, died 1872, was one of the most voluminous and popular writers of the day. Her Poetry of Life had given her considerable celebrity very numerous. The principal ones are The Daughters renton. VOL. IX. Love's early dream has music Where it delights to dwell; 215 |