Volume II Part 14 (1/2)
The d.u.c.h.esses de Larochefoucauld and Noailles, and one or two other n.o.ble ladies, were among them. I felt it was a proof that genius is of no party, when I saw a granddaughter of General Lafayette enter among us. She is married to a gentleman who is said to be of the extreme cote gauche; but I remarked that they both listened with as much deep interest to all the touching details of this mournful visit as the rest of us. Who, indeed, could help it?--This lady sat between me and Madame Recamier on one sofa; M. Ampere the reader, and M. de Chateaubriand himself, on another, immediately at right angles with it,--so that I had the pleasure of watching one of the most expressive countenances I ever looked at, while this beautiful specimen of his head and his heart was displayed to us. On the other side of me was a gentleman whom I was extremely happy to meet--the celebrated Gerard; and before the reading commenced, I had the pleasure of conversing with him: he is one of those whose aspect and whose words do not disappoint the expectations which high reputation always gives birth to. There was no formal circle;--the ladies approached themselves a little towards THE sofa which was placed at the feet of Corinne, and the gentlemen stationed themselves in groups behind them. The sun shone _delicately_ into the room through the white silk curtains--delicious flowers scented the air--the quiet gardens of the Abbaye, stretched to a sufficient distance beneath the windows to guard us from every Parisian sound--and, in short, the whole thing was perfect. Can you wonder that I was delighted? or that I have thought the occurrence worth dwelling upon with some degree of lingering fondness?
The effect this delightful morning has had on us is, I a.s.sure you, by no means singular: it would be easy to fill a volume with the testimonies of delight and grat.i.tude which have been offered from various quarters in return for this gratification. Madame Tastu, whom I have heard called the Mrs. Hemans of France, was present at one or more of the readings, and has returned thanks in some very pretty lines, which conclude thus fervently:--
”Ma tete S'incline pour saisir jusques aux moindres sons, Et mon genou se ploie a demi, quand je prete, Enchantee et muette, L'oreille a vos lecons!”
Apropos of tributary verses on this subject, I am tempted to conclude my unmercifully long epistle by giving you some lines which have as yet, I believe, been scarcely seen by any one but the person to whom they are addressed. They are from the pen of the H. G. who so beautifully translated the twelve first cantos of the ”Frithiof Saga,”
which was so favourably received in England last spring.
H. G. is an Englishwoman, but from the age of two to seventeen she resided in the United States of America. Did I not tell you this, you would be at a loss to understand her allusion to the distant dwelling of her youth.
This address, as you will perceive, is not as an acknowledgment for having been admitted to the Abbaye, but an earnest prayer that she may be so; and I heartily hope it will prove successful.
TO M. LE VICOMTE DE CHATEAUBRIAND.
In that distant region, the land of the West, Where my childhood and youth glided rapidly by, Ah! why was my bosom with sorrow oppress'd?
Why trembled the tear-drop so oft in mine eye?
No! 'twas not that pleasures they told me alone Were found in the courts where proud monarchs reside; My knee could not bend at the foot of a throne, My heart could not hallow an emperor's pride.
But, oh! 'twas the thought that bright genius there dwelt, And breathed on a few holy spirits its flame, That awaken'd the grief which in childhood I felt, When, Europe! I mutter'd thy magical name.
And now that as pilgrim I visit thy sh.o.r.e, I ask not where kings hold their pompous array; But I fain would behold, and all humbly adore, The wreath which thy brows, Chateaubriand! display.
My voice may well falter--unknown is my name, But say, must my accents prove therefore in vain?
Beyond the Atlantic we boast of thy fame, And repeat that thy footstep has traversed our plain.
Great bard!--then reject not the prayer that I speak With trembling emotion, and offer thee now; In thy eloquent page, oh! permit me to seek The joys and the sorrows that genius may know.
H. G.
LETTER LXI.
Jardin des Plantes.--Not equal in beauty to our Zoological Gardens.--La Salpetriere.--Anecdote.--Les Invalides.--Difficulty of finding English Colours there.--The Dome.
Another long morning on the other side of the water has given us abundant amus.e.m.e.nt, and sent us home in a very good humour with the expedition, because, after very mature and equitable consideration, we were enabled honestly to decide that our Zoological Gardens are in few points inferior, in many equal, and in some greatly superior, to the long and deservedly celebrated Jardin des Plantes.
If considered as a museum and nursery for botanists, we certainly cannot presume to compare our comparatively new inst.i.tution to that of Paris; but, zoologically speaking, it is every way superior. The collection of animals, both birds and beasts, is, I think, better, and certainly in finer condition. I confess that I envy them their beautiful giraffe; but what else have they which we cannot equal? Then as to our superiority, look at the comparative degree of beauty of the two enclosures. ”O England!” as I once heard a linen-draper exclaim in the midst of his shop, intending in his march of mind to quote Byron--
”O England! with all thy faults, I can't help loving thee still.”
And I am quite of the linen-draper's mind: I cannot help loving those smooth-shaven lawns, those untrimmed flowing shrubs, those meandering walks, now seen, now lost amidst a cool green labyrinth of shade, which are so truly English. You have all this at the Zoological Gardens--we have none of it in the Jardin des Plantes; and, therefore, I like the Zoological Gardens best.
We must not say a word, my friend, about the lectures, or the free admission to them--that is not our forte; and if the bourgeoisie go on much longer as they do at present, becoming greater and more powerful with every pa.s.sing day, and learning to know, as their mercantile neighbours have long known, that it is quite necessary both governments and individuals should turn all things to profit;--
”Car dans le siecle ou nous sommes, On ne donne rien pour rien;”--