I am seated in my snug little room at M. Belloc's. The weather is
overpoweringly hot, but these Parisian houses seem to have seized and
imprisoned coolness. French household ways are delightful. I like
their seclusion from the street, by these deep-paved quadrangles. I
like these cool, smooth, waxed floors so much that I one day queried
with my friends, the C.'s, whether we could not introduce them into
America. L., who is a Yankee housekeeper, answered, with spirit, "No,
indeed; not while the mistress of the house has every thing to do, as
in America; I think I see myself, in addition to all my cares, on my
knees, waxing up one of these floors."
"Ah," says Caroline, "the thing is managed better in Paris; the
_frotteur_ comes in before we are up in the morning, shod with
great brushes, and dances over the floors till they shine."
"I am sure," said I, "here is Fourrier's system in one particular. We
enjoy the floors, and the man enjoys the dancing."
Madame Belloc had fitted up my room with the most thoughtful care. A
large bouquet adorns the table; fancy writing materials are displayed;
and a waiter, with sirups and an extempore soda fount, one of Parisian
household refinements, stands just at my elbow. Above all, my walls
are hung with beautiful engravings from Claude and Zuccarelli.
This house pertains to the government, and is held by M. Belloc in
virtue of his situation as director of the Imperial School of Design,
to which institution about one half of it is devoted. A public
examination is at hand, in preparing for which M. Belloc is heart and
soul engaged. This school is a government provision for the gratuitous
instruction of the working classes in art. I went into the rooms where
the works of the scholars are arranged for the inspection of the
judges. The course of instruction is excellent - commencing with the
study of nature. Around the room various plants are growing, which
serve for models, interspersed with imitations in drawing or
modelling, by the pupils. I noticed a hollyhock and thistle, modelled
with singular accuracy. As some pupils can come only at evening, M.
Belloc has prepared a set of casts of plants, which he says are
plaster daguerreotypes. By pouring warm gelatine upon a leaf, a
delicate mould is made, from which these casts are taken. He showed me
bunches of leaves, and branches of the vine, executed by them, which
were beautiful. In like manner the pupil commences the study of the
human figure, with the skeleton, which he copies bone by bone. Gutta
percha muscles are added in succession, till finally he has the whole
form. Besides, each student has particular objects given him to study
for a certain period, after which he copies them from memory. The same
course is pursued with prints and engravings.
When an accurate knowledge of forms is gained, the pupil receives
lessons in combination. Such subjects as these are given: a vase of
flowers, a mediaeval or classic vase, shields, Helmets, escutcheons,
&c., of different styles. The first prize composition was a hunting
frieze, modelled, in which were introduced fanciful combinations of
leaf and scroll work, dogs, hunters, and children. Figures of almost
every animal and plant were modelled; the drawings and modellings from
memory were wonderful, and showed, in their combination, great
richness of fancy. Scattered about the room were casts of the best
classic figures of the Louvre, placed there, as M. Belloc gracefully
remarked, not as models, but as inspirations, to cultivate the sense
of beauty.
I was shown, moreover, their books of mathematical studies, which
looked intricate and learned, but of which I appreciated only the
delicate chirography. "And where," said I, "are these young mechanics
taught to read and write?" "In the brothers' schools," he said. Paris
is divided into regular parishes, centring round different churches,
and connected with each church is a parochial school, for boys and
girls, taught by ecclesiastics and nuns.
With such thorough training of the sense of beauty, it may be easily
seen that the facility of French enthusiasm in aesthetics is not, as
often imagined, superficial pretence. The nerves of beauty are so
exquisitely tuned and strung that they must thrill at every touch.
One sees this, in French life, to the very foundation of society. A
poor family will give, cheerfully, a part of their bread money to buy
a flower. The idea of artistic symmetry pervades every thing, from the
arrangement of the simplest room to the composition of a picture. At
the chateau of Madame V. the whiteheaded butler begged madame to
apologize for the central flower basket on the table. He "had not had
time to study the composition."
The English and Americans, seeing the French so serious and intent on
matters of beauty, fancy it to be mere affectation. To be serious on a
barrel of flour, or a bushel of potatoes, we can well understand; but
to be equally earnest in the adorning of a room or the "composition"
of a bouquet seems ridiculous. But did not He who made the appetite
for food make also that for beauty? and while the former will perish
with the body, is not the latter immortal? With all New England's
earnestness and practical efficiency, there is a long withering of the
soul's more ethereal part, - a crushing out of the beautiful, - which is
horrible. Children are born there with a sense of beauty equally
delicate with any in the world, in whom it dies a lingering death of
smothered desire and pining, weary starvation. I know, because I have
felt it. - One in whom this sense has long been repressed, in coming
into Paris, feels a rustling and a waking within him, as if the soul
were trying to unfold her wings, long unused and mildewed.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 107 of 119
Words from 107958 to 108972
of 120793
