CHAPTER XXII.
HIGH ART IN THE QUARTIER LATIN.
"But, my dear fellow, what else could you have expected? You tookMam'selle Josephine to the _Opera Comique. Eh bien!_ you might as wellhave taken an oyster up Mount Vesuvius. Our fair friend was out of herelement. _Voila tout_."
"Confound her and her element!" I exclaimed with a groan. "What thedeuce _is_ her element--the Quartier Latin?"
"The Quartier Latin is to some extent her habitat--but then Mam'selleJosephine belongs to a genus of which you, _cher_ Monsieur Arbuthnot,are deplorably ignorant--the genus grisette. The grisette from a certainpoint of view is the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of Parisian industry; the bouquetof Parisian civilization. She is indigenous to the _mansarde_ and the_pave_--bears no transplantation--flourishes in _the premiere balconie_,the suburban _guingette_, and the Salle Valentinois; but degenerates ata higher elevation. To improve her is to spoil her. In her white cap andmuslin gown, the Parisian grisette is simply delicious. In a smartbonnet, a Cashmere and a brougham, she is simply detestable. Fineclothes vulgarize her. Fine surroundings demoralize her. Lodged on thesixth story, rich in the possession of a cuckoo-clock, a canary, half adozen pots of mignonette, and some bits of cheap furniture in imitationmahogany, she has every virtue and every fault that is charming inwoman--childlike gaiety; coquetry; thoughtless generosity; the readiestlaugh, the readiest tear, and the warmest heart in the world. Transplanther to the Chaussee d'Antin, instil the taste for diamonds, truffles,and Veuve Clicquot, and you poison her whole nature. She becomes false,cruel, greedy, prodigal of your money, parsimonious of her own--avampire--a ghoul--the hideous thing we call in polite parlance a _Fillede Marbre."_
Thus, with much gravity and emphasis, spoke Herr Franz Mueller, lying onhis back upon a very ricketty sofa, and smoking like a steam-engine. Acup of half-cold coffee, and a bottle of rum three parts emptied stoodbeside him on the floor. These were the remains of his breakfast; for itwas yet early in the morning of the day following my great misadventureat the Opera Comique, and I had sought him out at his lodgings in theRue Clovis at an hour when the Quartier Latin was for the most partin bed.
"Josephine, at all events, is not of the stuff that _Filles de Marbre_are made of," I said, smiling.
"Perhaps not--_mais, que voulez-vous?_ We are what we are. A grisettemakes a bad fine lady. A fine lady would make a still worse grisette.The Archbishopric of Paris is a most repectable and desirablepreferment; but your humble servant, for instance, would hardly suitthe place,"
"And the moral of this learned and perspicuous discourse?"
"_Tiens_! the moral, is--keep our fair friend in her place. Rememberthat a dinner at thirty sous in the Palais Royal, or a fete withfireworks at Mabille, will give her ten times more pleasure than thedaintiest repast you could order at the Maison Doree, or the choicestnight of the season at either opera house. And how should it beotherwise? One must understand a thing to be able to enjoy it; and I'llbe sworn Mam'selle Josephine was infinitely more bored last night thanyourself."
Our conversation, or rather his monologue, was here interrupted by theringing of the outer bell.
The artist sat up, took his pipe from his lips, and looked considerablydisturbed.
"_Mille tonnerres_!" said he in a low tone. "Who can it be?... so earlyin the day ... not yet ten o'clock ... it is very mysterious."
"It is only mysterious," said I, "as long as you don't open the door.Shall I answer the bell?"
"No--yes--wait a moment ... suppose it is that demon, my landlord, orthat archfiend, my tailor--then you must say ... holy St. Nicholas! youmust say I am in bed with small-pox, or that I've broken out suddenlyinto homicidal delirium, and you're my keeper."
"Unfortunately I should not know either of your princes of darkness atfirst sight."
"True--and it might be Dupont, who owes me thirty francs, and swore bythe bones of his aunt (an excellent person, who keeps an estaminet inthe Place St. Sulpice) that he would pay me this week. _Diable_! theregoes the bell again."
"It would perhaps be safest," I suggested, "to let M. or N. ring on tillhe is tired of the exercise."
"But conceive the horrid possibility of letting thirty francs ringthemselves out of patience! No, _mon ami_--I will dare the worst thatmay happen. Wait here for me--I will answer the door myself,"
Now it should be explained that Mueller's apartments consisted of threerooms. First, a small outer chamber which he dignified with the title ofSalle d'Attente, but which, as it was mainly furnished with old boots,umbrellas and walking-sticks, and contained, by way of accommodation forvisitors only a three-legged stool and a door-mat, would have been morefitly designated as the hall. Between this Salle d'Attente and the denin which he slept, ate, smoked, and received his friends, lay thestudio--once a stately salon, now a wilderness of litter anddilapidation. On one side you beheld three windows closely boarded up,with strips of newspaper pasted over the cracks to exclude every gleamof day. Overhead yawned a huge, dusty skylight, to make way for which afine old painted ceiling had been ruthlessly knocked away. On the wallswere pinned and pasted all sorts of rough sketches and studies in colorand crayon. In one corner lolled a despondent-looking lay-figure in amoth-eaten Spanish cloak; in another lay a heap of plaster-casts,gigantic hands and feet, broken-nosed masks of the Apollo, the Laocoon,the Hercules Farnese, and other foreigners of distinction. Upon thechimney-piece were displayed a pair of foils, a lute, a skull, anantique German drinking-mug, and several very modern empty bottles. Inthe middle of the room stood two large easels, a divan, a round table,and three or four chairs; while the floor was thickly strewn with emptycolor-tubes, bits of painting-rag, corks, cigar-ends, and all kinds ofmiscellaneous litter.
All these things I had observed as I passed in; for this, be itremembered, was my first visit to Mueller in his own territory.
I heard him go through the studio and close the door behind him, andthen I heard him open the door upon the public staircase. Presently hecame back, shutting the door behind him as before.
"My dear fellow," he exclaimed, breathlessly, "you have brought luckwith you! What do you think? A sitter--positively, a sitter! Wants to besketched in at once--_Vive la France_!"
"Man or woman? Young or old? Plain or pretty?"
"Elderly half-length, feminine gender--Madame Tapotte. They are boththere, Monsieur and Madame Excellent couple--redolent of thecountry--husband bucolic, adipose, auriferous--wife arrayed in all herglory, like the Queen of Sheba. I left them in the Salle d'Attente--toldthem I had a sitter--time immensely occupied--half-lengths furiously indemand ... _Will_ you oblige me by performing the part for a fewminutes, just to carry out the idea?"
"What part?"
"The part of sitter."
"Oh, with pleasure," I replied, laughing. "Do with me what you please,"
"You don't mind? Come! you are the best fellow in the world. Now, ifyou'll sit in that arm-chair facing the light--head a little thrownback, arms folded, chin up ... Capital! You don't know what an effectthis will have upon the provincial mind!"
"But you're not going to let them in! You have no portrait of me to beat work upon!"
"My dear fellow, I've dozens of half-finished studies, any one of whichwill answer the purpose. _Voila_! here is the very thing."
And snatching up a canvas that had been standing till now with its faceto the wall, he flourished it triumphantly before my eyes, and placed iton the easel.
"Heavens and earth!" I exclaimed, "that's a copy of the Titian in theLouvre--the 'Young Man with the Glove!'"
"What of that? Our Tapottes will never find out the difference. By theway, I told them you were a great English Milord, so please keep up thecharacter."
"I will try to do credit to the peerage."
"And if you would not mind throwing in a word of English every now andthen ... a little Goddam, for instance.. . Eh?"
I laughed and shook my head.
"I will pose for you as Milord with all the pleasure in life," I said;"only I
cannot undertake to pose for the traditional Milord of theBouffes Parisiens! However, I will speak some English, and, if you like,I'll know no French."
"No, no--_diable_! you must know a little, or I can't exchange a wordwith you. But very little--the less the better. And now I'll letthem in."
They came; Madame first--tall, buxom, large-featured, fresh-colored,radiant in flowers, lace, and Palais Royal jewelry; thenMonsieur--short, fat, bald, rosy and smiling, with a huge frill to hisshirt-front and a nankeen waistcoat.
Mueller introduced them with much ceremony and many apologies.
"Permit me, milord," he said, "to present Monsieur and MadameTapotte--Monsieur and Madame Tapotte; Milord Smithfield."
I rose and bowed with the gravity becoming my rank.
"I have explained to milord," continued Mueller, addressing himselfpartly to the new-comers, partly to me, and chiefly to the study on theeasel, "that having no second room in which to invite Monsieur andMadame to repose themselves, I am compelled to ask them into thestudio--where, however, his lordship is so very kind as to say that theyare welcome." (Hereupon Madame Tapotte curtsied again, and Monsieurducked his bald head, and I returned their salutations with the samedignity as before.) "If Monsieur and Madame will be pleased to takeseats, however, his lordship's sitting will be ended in about tenminutes. _Mille pardons_, the face, milord, a little more to the right.Thank you--thank you very much. And if you will do me the favor to lookat me ... for the expression of the eye--just so--thank you! A mostimportant point, milord, is the expression of the eye. When I say theexpression, I mean the fire, the sparkle, the liquidity ... _enfin_ theexpression!"
Here he affected to put in some touches with immense delicacy--thenretreated a couple of yards, the better to contemplate his work--pursedup his mouth--ran his fingers through his hair--shaded his eyes with hishand--went back and put in another touch--again retreated--again put ina touch; and so on some three or four times successively.
Meanwhile Monsieur and Madame Tapotte were fidgeting upon their chairsin respectful silence. Every now and then they exchanged glances ofwonder and admiration. They were evidently dying to compare my augustfeatures with my portrait, but dared not take the liberty of rising. Atlength the lady's curiosity could hold out no longer.
"_Ah, mon Dieu_!" she said; "but it must be very fatiguing to sit solong in the same position. And to paint.... _Oiel!_ what practice! whatperseverance! what patience! _Avec permission_, M'sieur..."
And with this she sidled up to Mueller's elbow, leaving Monsieur Tapottethunderstruck at her audacity.
Then for a moment she stood silent; but during that moment the eager,apologetic smile vanished suddenly out of her face, and was succeeded byan expression of blank disappointment.
"_Tiens_!" she said bluntly. "I don't see one bit of likeness."
I turned hot from head to foot, but Mueller's serene effrontery was equalto the occasion.
"I dare say not, Madame," he replied, coolly. "I dare say not. Thisportrait is not intended to be like."
Madame Tapotte's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously.
"_Comment_!" she exclaimed.
"I should be extremely sorry," continued Mueller, loftily, "and hislordship would be extremely sorry, if there were too much resemblance."
"But a--a likeness--it seems to me, should at all events be--like,"stammered Madame Tapotte, utterly bewildered.
"And if M'sieur is to paint my wife," added Monsieur Tapotte, who had bythis time joined the group at the easel, "I--I..._Dame_! it must be agood deal more like than this."
Mueller drew himself up with an air of great dignity.
"Sir," he said, "if Madame does me the honor to sit to me for herportrait--for her _own_ portrait, observe--I flatter myself theresemblance will be overwhelming. But you must permit me to inform youthat Milord Smithfield is not sitting for his own portrait."
The Tapottes looked at each other in a state bordering on stupefaction.
"His lordship," continued Mueller, "is sitting for the portrait of one ofhis illustrious ancestors--a nobleman of the period of Queen Elizabeth."
Tapotte _mari_ scratched his head, and smiled feebly.
"_Parbleu_!" said he, "_mais c'est bien drole, ca_!"
The artist shrugged his shoulders.
"It so happens," said he, "that his lordship's gallery at SmithfieldCastle has unhappily been more than half destroyed by fire. Twocenturies of family portraits reduced to ashes! Terrible misfortune!Only one way of repairing the loss--that is of partially repairing it. Ido my best. I read the family records--I study the history of theperiod--his lordship sits to me daily--I endeavor to give a certainamount of family likeness; sometimes more, you observe, sometimes less... enormous responsibility, Monsieur Tapotte!"
"Oh, enormous!"
"The taste for family portraits," continued Mueller, still touching upthe Titian, "is a very natural one--and is on the increase. Manygentlemen of--of somewhat recent wealth, come to me for theirancestors."
"No!"
"_Foi d'honneur_. Few persons, however, are as conscientious as hislordship in the matter of family resemblance. They mostly buy up theirforefathers ready-made--adopt them, christen them, and ask noquestions."
Monsieur and Madame Tapotte exchanged glances.
"_Tiens, mon ami_, why should we not have an ancestor or two, as wellas other folks," suggested the lady, in a very audible whisper.
Monsieur shook his head, and muttered something about the expense.
"There is no harm, at all events," urged madame, "in asking the price."
"My charge for gallery portraits, madame, varies from sixty to a hundredfrancs," said Mueller.
"Heavens! how dear! Why, my own portrait is to be only fifty."
"Sixty, Madame, if we put in the hands and the jewelry," said Mueller,blandly.
"_Eh bien_!--sixty. But for these other things.... bah! _ils sontfierement chers_."
"_Pardon_, madame! The elegancies and superfluities of life are, by ajust rule of political economy, expensive. It is right that they shouldbe so; as it is right that the necessaries of life should be within thereach of the poorest. Bread, for instance, is strictly necessary, andshould be cheap. A great-grandfather, on the contrary, is an elegantsuperfluity, and may be put up at a high figure."
"There is some truth in that," murmured Monsieur Tapotte.
"Besides, in the present instance, one also pays for antiquity."
"_C'est juste--C'est juste_."
"At the same time," continued Mueller, "if Monsieur Tapotte were to honorme with a commission for, say, half a dozen family portraits, I wouldendeavor to put them in at forty francs apiece--including, at that verylow price, a Revolutionary Deputy, a beauty of the Louis Quinze period,and a Marshal of France."
"_Tiens_! that's a fair offer enough," said madame. "What say you, _monami_?"
But Monsieur Tapotte, being a cautious man, would say nothing hastily.He coughed, looked doubtful, declined to commit himself to an opinion,and presently drew off into a corner for the purpose of holding awhispered consultation with his wife.
Meanwhile Mueller laid aside his brushes and palette, informed me with aprofound bow that my lordship had honored him by sitting as long as wasstrictly necessary, and requested my opinion upon the progress ofthe work.
I praised it rapturously. You would have thought, to hear me, that fordrawing, breadth, finish, color, composition, chiaroscuro, and everyother merit that a painting could possess, this particular_chef-d'oeuvre_ excelled all the masterpieces of Europe.
Mueller bowed, and bowed, and bowed, like a Chinaman at a visit ofceremony; He was more than proud; he was overwhelmed, _accable_, etcaetera, et caetera.
The Tapottes left off whispering, and listened breathlessly.
"He is evidently a great painter, _not' jeune homme_!" said Madame inone of her large whispers.
To which Monsieur replied as audibly:--"_Ca se voit, ma femme--sacre nomd'une pipe_!"
"Milford will do me t
he favor to sit again on Friday?" said Mueller, as Itook up my hat and gloves.
I replied with infinite condescension that I would endeavor to do so. Ithen made the stiffest of stiff bows to the excellent Tapottes, and,ushered to the door by Mueller, took my departure majestically in thecharacter of Lord Smithfield.
In the Days of My Youth: A Novel Page 19