Having complained of the want of a comfortable chair last evening, I found a _chef d'oeuvre_ of Rainguet's in my _salon_ this morning, sent me by my thoughtful and ever-kind friend the Duc de Guiche. A connoisseur in chairs and sofas, being unhappily addicted to "taking mine ease" not only in "mine inn," but wherever I meet these requisites to it, I am compelled to acknowledge the superiority of Rainguet over any that I have previously seen; and my only fear is, that this luxurious chair will seduce me into the still greater indulgence of my besetting or _besitting_ sin, sedentary habits.

At length, we have found a house to suit us, and a delightful one it is; once the property of the Marechal Ney, but now belonging to the Marquis de Lillers. It is situated in the Rue de Bourbon, but the windows of the princ.i.p.al apartments look on the Seine, and command a delightful view of the Tuilerie Gardens. It is approached by an avenue bounded by fine trees, and is enclosed on the Rue de Bourbon side by high walls, a large _porte-cochere_, and a porter's lodge; which give it all the quiet and security of a country house.

This hotel may be viewed as a type of the splendour that marked the dwellings of the imperial _n.o.blesse_, and some notion of it may be conceived from the fact that the decorations of its walls alone cost a million of francs. These decorations are still--thanks to the purity of the air of Paris--as fresh as if only a year painted, and are of great beauty; so much so, that it will be not only very expensive but very difficult to a.s.sort the furniture to them; and, unfortunately, there is not a single _meuble_ in the house.

The rent is high, but there are so many compet.i.tors for the hotel, which has only been three days in the market, that we consider ourselves fortunate in having secured it.

A small garden, or rather terrace, with some large trees and plenty of flowers, separates the house from the Quai d'Orsay, and runs back at its left angle. The avenue terminates in a court, from which, on the right, a gate opens into the stable offices; and a vestibule, fitted up as a conservatory, forms an entrance to the house. A flight of marble steps on each side of the conservatory, leads to a large ante-room, from which a window of one immense plate of gla.s.s, extending from the ceiling to the floor, divides the centre, permitting the pyramids of flowers to be seen through it. A gla.s.s door on each side opens from the vestibule to the steps of the conservatory.

The vestibule, lofty and s.p.a.cious, is lighted also by two other windows, beyond the conservatory, and is ornamented with pilasters with Corinthian capitals.

On the right hand is the _salle a manger_, a fine room, lighted by three windows looking into the court-yard, and architecturally arranged with pilasters, a rich cornice and ceiling: the hall is stuccoed, painted in imitation of marble, and has so fine a polish as really to deceive the eye. In the centre of this apartment is a large door between the pilasters, opening into a drawing-room, and at the opposite end from the door that opens from the vestibule is that which leads to the kitchen offices, and by which dinner is served.

_Vis-a-vis_ to the _salle a manger_, and divided from it by the large vestibule, is a dressing and bed-chamber with an alcove, both rooms being ornamented with columns and pilasters, between which are mirrors of large dimensions inserted in recesses. A corridor and _escalier derobe_ at the back of these two apartments admit the attendance of servants, without their pa.s.sing through the vestibule.

In the centre of this last, and opposite to the large plate of gla.s.s that divides it from the conservatory, large folding doors open into the princ.i.p.al drawing-room, which is lighted by three large and lofty windows, the centre one exactly facing the folding doors, and, like them, supported by pilasters.

This room is of large dimensions, and finely proportioned; the sides and ends are divided by fluted pilasters with Corinthian capitals richly gilt. At one extremity is a beautifully sculptured chimney-piece of Parian marble, over which is a vast mirror, bounded by pilasters, that separate it from a large panel on each side, in the centre of which are exquisitely designed allegorical groups.

At the opposite end, a mirror, of similar dimensions to that over the chimney-piece, and resting like it on a white marble slab, occupies the centre, on each side of which are panels with painted groups. Doors at each end, and exactly facing, lead into other _salons_; opposite to the two end windows are large mirrors, resting on marble slabs, bounded by narrow panels with painted figures, and between the windows are also mirrors to correspond. The pictorial adornments in this _salon_ are executed by the first artists of the day, and with a total disregard of expense, so that it is not to be wondered at that they are beautiful.

Military trophies are mingled with the decorations, the whole on a white ground, and richly ornamented with gilding. The Seine, with its boats, and the gay scene of the Tuilerie Gardens, are reflected in the mirrors opposite to the windows, while the groups on the panels are seen in the others.

Nothing can exceed the beauty of this room, in which such fine proportion, architectural decoration, and exquisite finish reign, that the eye dwells on it with delight, and can trace no defect.

The door on the right-hand end, on entering, opens to a less richly ornamented _salon_, inside which are two admirable bed-chambers and dressing-rooms, communicating by an _escalier derobe_ with a suite of servants' apartments.

The door on the left-hand end of the large _salon_ opens into a beautiful room, known as the _Salle de la Victoire_, from its being decorated by paintings allegorical of Victory. This apartment is lighted by two large windows, and opposite to them is a deep recess, or alcove.

A cornice extends around the room, about four feet beneath the ceiling, and is supported by white columns, projecting into the chamber, on each of which stands a figure of Victory offering a wreath of laurels. This cornice divides the room from the recess before mentioned.

The chimney-piece is in a recess, with columns on each side; and the large mirror over it, and which is finished by the cornice, is faced by a similar one, also in a recess, with white columns, standing on a plinth on each side. The windows are finished by the former cornice, that extends round the rooms, and have similar columns on each side with Victories on them, and a mirror between. The room is white and gold, with delicate arabesques, and medallions exquisitely painted.

This _salon_ communicates with a corridor behind it, which admits the attendance of servants without the necessity of their pa.s.sing through the other apartments. Inside this _salon_ is a _chambre a coucher_, that looks as if intended for some youthful queen, so beautiful are its decorations. A recess, the frieze of which rests on two white columns with silvered capitals, is meant to receive a bed.

One side of the room is panelled with mirrors, divided by pilasters with silver capitals; and on the opposite side, on which is the chimney, similar panels occupy the same s.p.a.ce. The colour of the apartment is a light blue, with silver mouldings to all the panels, and delicate arabesques of silver. The chimney-piece and dogs for the wood have silvered ornaments to correspond.

Inside this chamber is the dressing-room, which is of an octagon shape, and panelled likewise with mirrors, in front of each of which are white marble slabs to correspond with that of the chimney-piece. The mouldings and architectural decorations are silvered, and arabesques of flowers are introduced.

This room opens into a _salle de bain_ of an elliptical form; the bath, of white marble, is sunk in the pavement, which is tessellated. From the ceiling immediately over the bath hangs an alabaster lamp, held by the beak of a dove; the rest of the ceiling being painted with Cupids throwing flowers. The room is panelled with alternate mirrors and groups of allegorical subjects finely executed; and is lighted by one window, composed of a single plate of gla.s.s opening into a little spot of garden secluded from the rest. A small library completes the suite I have described, all the apartments of which are on the ground floor.

There are several other rooms in a wing in the court-yard, and the whole are in perfect order.

I remembered to-day, when standing in the princ.i.p.al drawing-room, the tragic scene narrated to me by Sir Robert Wilson as having taken place there, when he had an interview with the Princesse de la Moskowa, after the condemnation of her brave husband.

He told me, years ago, how the splendour of the decorations of the _salon_--decorations meant to commemorate the military glory of the Marechal Ney--added to the tragic effect of the scene in which that n.o.ble-minded woman, overwhelmed with horror and grief, turned away with a shudder from objects that so forcibly reminded her of the brilliant past, and so fearfully contrasted with the terrible present.

He described to me the silence, broken only by the sobs that heaved her agonised bosom; the figures of the few trusted friends permitted to enter the presence of the distracted wife, moving about with noiseless steps, as if fearful of disturbing the sacredness of that grief to offer consolation for which they felt their tongues could form no words, so deeply did their hearts sympathise with it.

He told me that the images of these friends in the vast mirrors looked ghostly in the dim twilight of closed blinds, the very light of day having become insupportable to the broken-hearted wife, so soon to be severed for ever, and by a violent death, from the husband she adored.

Ah, if these walls could speak, what agony would they reveal! and if mirrors could retain the shadows replete with despair they once reflected, who dare look on them?

I thought of all this to-day, until the tears came into my eyes, and I almost determined not to hire the house, so powerfully did the recollection of the past affect me: but I remembered that such is the fate of mankind; that there are no houses in which scenes of misery have not taken place, and in which breaking hearts have not been ready to prompt the exclamation "There is no sorrow like mine."

How is the agony of such moments increased by the recollection that in the same chamber where such bitter grief now reigns, joy and pleasure once dwelt, and that those who shared it can bless us no more! How like a cruel mockery, then, appear the splendour and beauty of all that meets the eye, unchanged as when it was in unison with our feelings, but which now jars so fearfully with them!

I wonder not that the bereaved wife fled from this house, where every object reminded her of a husband so fondly loved, so fearfully lost, to mourn in some more humble abode over the fate of _him_ who could no more resist the magical influence of the presence of that glorious chief, who had so often led him to victory, than the war-horse can resist being animated by the sound of that trumpet which has often excited the proud animal into ardour.

Peace be to thy manes, gallant Ney; and if thy spirit be permitted to look down on this earth, it will be soothed by the knowledge that the wife of thy bosom has remained faithful to thy memory; and that thy sons, worthy of their sire--brave, n.o.ble, and generous-hearted--are devoted to their country, for which thou hadst so often fought and bled!

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 quant.i.ty 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 Amba.s.sador 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 _navete_ 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 _a 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 a.s.sume that superiority accorded to them in manner, if not entertained in fact, by the sterner s.e.x.

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 gla.s.s 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 Hotel 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 a.s.sumes 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 l.u.s.tres suspended. In short, the rooms looked perfectly habitable.

The princ.i.p.al 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, _bergeres, fauteuils_, and chairs, richly carved and gilt, are covered with satin to correspond with the curtains.

Gilt _consoles_, and _chiffonnieres_, with white marble tops, are placed wherever they could be disposed; and, on the chimney pieces, are fine _pendules_.