THE UNIFORM OF THE SCHOOL.
The coat and pantaloons of very dark blue cloth; the coat single-breasted, to button to the throat, with ten gilt buttons, two upon the collar, placed three inches back—the collar to turn over, with the corners round.
For Summer, the dress suit is the dark blue coat and white pantaloons. That for common use should be gray, made of the material known as “youth’s mixt.” For very warm weather, brown linen or drilling.
Suits are made by Messrs. Thorne & Jarvis, 414 Broadway, New York, where the buttons, made expressly for the School, may be obtained.
Caps, of a particular pattern, designed for the School, are made by Mr. Mealio, 416 Broadway, New York.
N. B.—Those entering the School are not expected to discard their every-day clothing, but when worn out, to renew it with the uniform of the School.
THE SHAWL DESIGNER SALAVILLE.
(FROM THE FRENCH.)
Every woman who visits the French exposition of domestic manufactures, whether she be young or old, brunette or blonde, stops involuntarily before the beautiful shawls exhibited, the exquisite designs of which draw from her a half suppressed sigh of loving desire; but in passing away from them she only laments that her limited means do not equal her longings for possession, without giving a thought to the artist who has labored by day and meditated by night to produce an article of dress worthy of her charms. The designer of a beautiful fabric, however, merits not only a thought, but deep sympathy, particular interest. Banished between Apollo and Mercury to a domain where the laurel does not flourish, he at once cultivates the fine arts and commerce, the ideal and the real. Up to a certain point he possesses the inspiration of the improvisatore, the conception of the painter, and the sentiment of the colorist. But if this industrial centaur does not join to these qualities a little of the management of the merchant, then comes a sad result, for probably he will at last be brought to the door of a hospital, broken down with useless labor, without one ray of glory having touched his brow or warmed his heart. I could cite a remarkable but sad instance of one possessing fine talents, united to an excellent and lovely character, to illustrate this mournful fancy, but I should only cause melancholy thoughts, from which I should preserve my reader. I will, on the contrary, recall a more fresh and joyous reminiscence apropos to this pleasant season.
Among the designers who have distinguished themselves this year, there is one whose name has been omitted; which is to be regretted, for Louis Salaville has contributed greatly to the creation of that new style of designs of which the shawl manufacturers are now so proud. In 1829 we were apprenticed to a shawl-weaving establishment, where, like machines, or a species of spider, we were expected to weave from five in the morning until nine at night. Showing but little aptitude for this part of the business, we were placed with a designer to learn that branch. At the school of design was a youth of fifteen or sixteen; he was pale as a daisy, simple as a child, and light as a butterfly; but with the grace of this flying insect he possessed unfortunately also its wandering propensities. He absented himself so frequently that the principals of the establishments grew impatient. Sometimes, after an absence of eight or ten days, he would enter just as the clock was sounding the hour of dismissal. He was vague and dreamy in his talk, would ask if it was April when it was December, and commenced a thousand things without ever finishing one. Notwithstanding he designed figures and flowers with wonderful rapidity and cleverness, we never dreamed of his being one day a rival.
“He’s a fool!” we would exclaim, “he will never be any thing.” Laugh not, dear reader, at our blindness; even great men have been known to undervalue youthful genius.
The crisis which followed the accession of Louis Philippe, did not overthrow the establishment, but it affected the school, and Salaville was dismissed with those who were not actually needed. Once in a while he would come in to inquire after the prospect of work; and when we would ironically congratulate him on his love for study, without reply he would throw off, with two or three strokes of the crayon, ludicrous sketchy caricatures. We accused him to ourselves of idleness, and thought him good for nothing, because he did not spend his days as we did daubing crooked palms, which we modestly called compositions, simpletons that we were. Without any apparent labor, as it were from the instinct that draws the bee to the rose, or the plant to the sun, he would sketch with boyish glee bits of exquisite designs—in one place a smoky hut, over whose broken, ruined roof the ivy gracefully twined; in another a noisy mill, surrounded with the sweeping foliage of the willow’s weaving branches; here and there clusters of drooping, bell-shaped flowers and wild jonquils twining together in luxuriant confusion; then in another corner of the paper a group of laughing, half-naked children, playing with one of those huge, long-eared dogs that the amiable Winterhalter calls the “First Friend!”
To facilitate universal harmony, to inspire us with a desire to aid and love each other, the Creator divides his gifts: upon one is bestowed strength, upon another intelligence; to Salaville has been given the imagination of a poet and the susceptibility of a woman. Several years passed in an idle, wandering way, feeling acutely, and sketching instinctively the beauties of nature, would, as one can readily imagine, produce a remarkable effect on such an organization as Salaville possesses. He did not seek to acquire knowledge, as Montaigne would have said, it came and incorporated itself with his soul. He led this errant life until, when about twenty, wishing to marry, he felt the necessity of applying himself more seriously to his business, and under this influence his compositions shot out fresh and brilliant from his brain, like the drooping grass and blossoms bent with the spray of the falling cascade raise themselves under the genial beams of the warm sun.
The talents of an artist like Salaville are stifled in a town whose manufacturers are distinguished rather for the economy of their combinations than for the fineness of their webs. In 1839, Salaville came to Paris. He did not make this move for the purpose of bettering his condition, for at Nîmes he had an honorable and advantageous position. But he hoped by removing to the capital to be enabled to execute the rich compositions his imagination conceived.
Science does not make happiness, says the Opera-Comique, nor talent secure always success; to obtain the latter skill is often better than learning. Once at Paris, Salaville obtained an undisputed reputation, it is true; but he had not the requisite qualities, nor means to direct and maintain an atélier; nor did he find sufficient zeal and intelligence in his associates. Then the luxurious imagination he possessed, and which made him so remarkable, caused him to be restless and impatient under the lingering details which hang around the commencement of every undertaking. At last, in 1846, Salaville, stretched on a sick bed, tortured with pain, found himself poorer and more destitute than he was on the day of his arrival. Happily at this moment a situation was offered, which once more revived hope and trust in the breast of the almost discouraged artist.
It may be that our readers think but little of square shawls and long shawls; however, they may not be ignorant of the fact that at the time of which I speak the manufacturers coped with each other in copying the Indian Cachemires for the designs of their shawls, which made a ruinous competition, for to obtain any success required great waste. Messrs. Boas, Brothers & Co., so distinguished for their rapid success in business, saw the inutility and folly of this, which is now admitted by every one; but they had the tact to see that in order to create a new style, it was necessary above all to procure an artist of the first order; their lucky stars placed in their hands Salaville, the one most capable of carrying out their plans.
For four years these intelligent men have progressed, improving each other. The manufacturer, with tastes corrected and refined by the artist, has in turn softened the eccentricities and exaggerations of genius. That which makes the shawls of this house so remarkable now, is that their designs have an originality of conception, a freshness and gracefulness never seen before. The cause is easily explained. Salaville has abandoned the old styles, which are exhausted. He does not imitate the Arabic, nor the Indian, nor the style of the Restoration, nor the ornamental, but he throws upon paper a profusion of poetic reminiscences, fruits of his joyous wandering youth.
One could scarcely believe the beauty of outline and design at which the house of Messrs. Boas have arrived. In order to give some idea of it, we have annexed to this article a sketch of one of their shawls. We wish we could at the same time give a description of the new and ingenious process employed in this establishment, to enable the designer to use the richest tints of the palette, that he may have harmony of tone and beauty of color, as well as gracefulness of design. But we have no right to divulge the mysterious secrets of the manufactory; and, moreover, we have said enough. However, in closing, we will ask of our readers, if in these days, when Democracy counts for something, does not Louis Salaville merit a place in the Journal?
BLANCHE AND LISETTE.
WRITTEN BY
CHARLES JEFFERYS,
COMPOSED BY
CHARLES W. GLOVER.
Published by permission of Mr. E. L. Walker, No. 160 Chestnut Street.
I would I were a gipsy girl to wander at my will,
Or but a village serving maid, I might be happy still;
Or any thing but what I am, if I could have my way,
I’d rather toil as Shepherdess, or Dairy maid all day;
Ah!
Second verse:
You ask me why I look so pale, and wonder why I pine;
You think I should be happy for you know that wealth is mine,
But ah Lisette! a coronet may glisten o’er the brow
Yet doubt and care be lurking there despite of pomp and show.
I
First verse continued:
Lady Blanche forgive me, but you’d tell another tale
If only for a little while your wishes might prevail;
O learn to be contented, if the world be full of care,
The Duchess and the Dairy maid, be sure has each her share
The Duchess and the Dairy maid, be sure has each her share.
Second verse continued:
see you merry as a lark, it is not so with me;
But I might be as joyous too, if I were half as free:
You wear your bridal garb to-day, you give both hand and heart,
While I for riches wanted not, with liberty must part:
While I for riches wanted not, with liberty must part.
Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. For the music, the [First verse] and Second verse labels have been added for clarity. Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious type-setting and punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of the originals available for preparation of the eBook.
page 231, uses the same similie: ==> uses the same [simile]:
page 250, Over the mantle-piece ==> Over the [mantel]-piece
page 270, an accomplished ménagere, ==> an accomplished [ménagère],
page 271, and eat lunch enough ==> and [ate] lunch enough
page 281, to God’s truth, where-ever ==> to God’s truth, [wherever]
page 284, grows. The perusual of it ==> grows. The [perusal] of it
[End of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVI, No. 4, April 1850]