CHAPTER VI.
To my surprise and pleasure, I find that a usage exists at Paris which I have nowhere else met with, namely, that of letting out rich and fine furniture by the quarter, half, or whole year, in any quantity required for even the largest establishment, and on the shortest notice.
I feared that we should be compelled to buy furniture, or else to put up with an inferior sort, little imagining that the most costly can be procured on hire, and even a large mansion made ready for the reception of a family in forty-eight hours. This is really like Aladdin's lamp, and is a usage that merits being adopted in all capitals.
We have made an arrangement, that if we decide on remaining in Paris more than a year, and wish to purchase the furniture, the sum agreed to be paid for the year's hire is to be allowed in the purchase-money, which is to be named when the inventory is made out.
We saw the house for the first time yesterday; engaged it to-day for a year; to-morrow, the upholsterer will commence placing the furniture in it; and to-morrow night we are to sleep in it. This is surely being very expeditious, and saves a world of trouble as well as of wailing.
Spent last evening at Madame Craufurd's. Met there the Prince and Princesse Castelcicala, with their daughter, who is a very handsome woman. The Prince was a long time Ambassador from Naples at the Court of St. James, and he now fills the same station at that of France.
The Princesse is sister to our friend Prince Ischetella at Naples, and, like all her country-women, appears sensible and unaffected. She and Mademoiselle Dorotea speak English perfectly well, and profess a great liking to England and its inhabitants. The Dowager Lady Hawarden, the Marquise de Brehan, the Baroness d'Etlingen, Madame d'Ocaris, Lady Barbara Craufurd, and Lady Combermere, composed the rest of the female portion of the party.
Lady Hawarden has been very pretty: what a melancholy phrase is this same has been! The Marquise de Brehan is still a very fine woman; Lady Combermere is very agreeable, and sings with great expression; and the rest of the ladies, always excepting Lady Barbara Craufurd, who is very pretty, were very much like most other ladies of a certain time of life—addicted to silks and blondes, and well aware of their relative prices.
Madame Craufurd is very amusing. With all the naïveté of a child, she possesses a quick perception of character and a freshness of feeling rarely found in a person of her advanced age, and her observations are full of originality.
The tone of society at Paris is very agreeable. Literature, the fine arts, and the general occurrences of the day, furnish the topics for conversation, from which ill-natured remarks are exploded. A ceremoniousness of manner, reminding one of la Vieille Cour, and probably rendered à la mode by the restoration of the Bourbons, prevails; as well as a strict observance of deferential respect from the men towards the women, while these last seem to assume that superiority accorded to them in manner, if not entertained in fact, by the sterner sex.
The attention paid by young men to old women in Parisian society is very edifying, and any breach of it would be esteemed nothing short of a crime. This attention is net evinced by any flattery, except the most delicate—a profound silence when these belles of other days recount anecdotes of their own times, or comment on the occurrences of ours, or by an alacrity to perform the little services of picking up a fallen mouchoir de poche, bouquet, or fan, placing a shawl, or handing to a carriage.
If flirtations exist at Paris, they certainly are not exhibited in public; and those between whom they are supposed to be established observe a ceremonious decorum towards each other, well calculated to throw discredit on the supposition. This appearance of reserve may be termed hypocrisy; nevertheless, even the semblance of propriety is advantageous to the interests of society; and the entire freedom from those marked attentions, engrossing conversations, and from that familiarity of manner often permitted in England, without even a thought of evil on the part of the women who permit these indiscretions, leaves to Parisian circles an air of greater dignity and decorum, although I am not disposed to admit that the persons who compose them really possess more dignity or decorum than my compatriots.
Count Charles de Mornay was presented to me to-day. Having heard of him only as—
"The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers,"
I was agreeably surprised to find him one of the most witty, well-informed, and agreeable young men I have ever seen. Gay without levity, well-read without pedantry, and good-looking without vanity. Of how few young men of fashion could this be said! But I am persuaded that Count Charles de Mornay is made to be something better than a mere man of fashion.
Spent all the morning in the Hôtel Ney, superintending the placing of the furniture. There is nothing so like the magicians we read of as Parisian upholsterers; for no sooner have they entered a house, than, as if touched by the hand of the enchanter, it assumes a totally different aspect. I could hardly believe my eyes when I entered our new dwelling, to-day.
Already were the carpets—and such carpets, too—laid down on the salons; the curtains were hung; consoles, sofas, tables, and chairs placed, and lustres suspended. In short, the rooms looked perfectly habitable.
The principal drawing-room has a carpet of dark crimson with a gold-coloured border, on which is a wreath of flowers that looks as if newly culled from the garden, so rich, varied, and bright are their hues. The curtains are of crimson satin, with embossed borders of gold-colour; and the sofas, bergères, fauteuils, and chairs, richly carved and gilt, are covered with satin to correspond with the curtains.
Gilt consoles, and chiffonnières, with white marble tops, are placed wherever they could be disposed; and, on the chimney pieces, are fine pendules.
The next drawing-room, which I have appropriated as my sitting-room, is furnished with blue satin, with rich white flowers. It has a carpet of a chocolate-coloured ground with a blue border, round which is a wreath of bright flowers, and carved and gilt sofas, bergères, and fauteuils, covered with blue satin like the curtains.
The recess we have lined with fluted blue silk, with a large mirror placed in the centre of it, and five beautiful buhl cabinets around, on which I intend to dispose all my treasures of old Sèvre china, and ruby glass.
I was told by the upholsterer, that he had pledged himself to milord that miladi was not to see her chambre à coucher, or dressing-room, until they were furnished. This I well knew was some scheme laid by Lord B. to surprise me, for he delights in such plans.
He will not tell me what is doing in the rooms, and refuses all my entreaties to enter them, but shakes his head, and says he thinks I will be pleased when I see them; and so I think, too, for the only complaint I ever have to make of his taste is its too great splendour—a proof of which he gave me when I went to Mountjoy Forest on my marriage, and found my private sitting-room hung with crimson Genoa silk velvet, trimmed with gold bullion fringe, and all the furniture of equal richness—a richness that was only suited to a state room in a palace.
We feel like children with a new plaything, in our beautiful house; but how, after it, shall we ever be able to reconcile ourselves to the comparatively dingy rooms in St. James's Square, which no furniture or decoration could render any thing like the Hôtel Ney?
The Duc and Duchesse de Guiche leave Paris, to my great regret, in a few days, and will be absent six weeks. He is to command the encampment at Luneville, and she is to do the honours—giving dinners, balls, concerts, and soirées, to the ladies who accompany their lords to "the tented field," and to the numerous visitors who resort to see it. They have invited us to go to them, but we cannot accept their kindness. They are
"On hospitable thoughts intent,"
and will, I doubt not, conciliate the esteem of all with whom they come in contact.
He is so well bred, that the men pardon his superiority both of person and manner; and she is so warm-hearted and amiable, that the women, with a few exceptions, forgive her rare beauty. How we shall miss them, and the dear children, too!
Drove in the Bois de Boulogne yesterday, with the Duchesse de Guiche: met my old acquaintance, Lord Yarmouth, who is as amusing and original as ever.
He has great natural talent and knowledge of the world, but uses both to little purpose, save to laugh at its slaves. He might be any thing he chose, but he is too indolent for exertion, and seems to think le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. He is one of the many clever people spoilt by being born to a great fortune and high rank, advantages which exclude the necessity of exercising the talents he possesses.
It is, however, no trifling merit, that born to immense wealth and high station, he should he wholly free from arrogance, or ostentation.
At length, the secret is out, the doors of my chambre à coucher and dressing-room are opened, and I am delighted with both. The whole fitting up is in exquisite taste, and, as usual, when my most gallant of all gallant husbands that it ever fell to the happy lot of woman to possess, interferes, no expense has been spared.
The bed, which is silvered, instead of gilt, rests on the backs of two large silver swans, so exquisitely sculptured that every feather is in alto-relievo, and looks nearly as fleecy as those of the living bird. The recess in which it is placed is lined with white fluted silk, bordered with blue embossed lace; and from the columns that support the frieze of the recess, pale blue silk curtains, lined with white, are hung, which, when drawn, conceal the recess altogether.
The window curtain is of pale blue silk, with embroidered muslin curtains, trimmed with lace inside them, and have borders of blue and white lace to match those of the recess.
A silvered sofa has been made to fit the side of the room opposite the fire-place, near to which stands a most inviting bergère. An ècritoire occupies one panel, a bookstand the other, and a rich coffer for jewels forms a pendant to a similar one for lace, or India shawls.
A carpel of uncut pile, of a pale blue, a silver lamp, and a Psyche glass, the ornaments silvered to correspond with the decorations of the chamber, complete the furniture. The hangings of the dressing-room are of blue silk, covered with lace, and trimmed with rich frills of the same material, as are also the dressing-stools and chaise longue, and the carpet and lamp are similar to those of the bed-room.
A toilette table stands before the window, and small jardinières are placed in front of each panel of looking-glass, but so low as not to impede a full view of the person dressing in this beautiful little sanctuary.
The salle de bain is draped with white muslin trimmed with lace, and the sofa and bergère are covered with the same. The bath is of white marble, inserted in the floor, with which its surface is level. On the ceiling over it, is a painting of Flora scattering flowers with one hand while from the other is suspended an alabaster lamp, in the form of a lotos.
A more tasteful or elegant suite of apartments cannot be imagined; and all this perfection of furniture has been completed in three days! Lord B. has all the merit of the taste, and the upholsterer that of the rapidity and excellence of the execution.
The effect of the whole suite is chastely beautiful; and a queen could desire nothing better for her own private apartments. Few queens, most probably, ever had such tasteful ones.
Our kind friend, Charles Mills, has arrived from Rome,—amiable and agreeable as ever. He dined with us yesterday, and we talked over the pleasant days spent in the Vigna Palatina, his beautiful villa.
Breakfasted to-day in the Rue d'Anjou, a take-leave repast given to the Duc and Duchesse de Guiche by Madame Craufurd. Lady Barbara and Colonel Craufurd were of the party, which was the only triste one I have seen in that house. The Duc de Gramont was there, and joined in the regret we all felt at seeing our dear friends drive away.
It was touching to behold Madame Craufurd, kissing again and again her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the venerable Duc de Gramont, scarcely less moved, embracing his son and daughter-in-law, and exhorting the latter to take care of her health, while the dear little Ida, his granddaughter, not yet two years old, patted his cheeks, and smiled in his face.
It is truly delightful to witness the warm affection that subsists between relatives in France, and the dutiful and respectful attention paid by children to their parents. In no instance have I seen this more strongly exemplified than in the Duc and Duchesse de Guiche, whose unceasing tenderness towards the good Duc de Gramont not only makes his happiness, but is gratifying to all who behold it, as is also their conduct to Madame Craufurd.
I wish the encampment was over, and those dear friends back again.