sons of the soil-第3节

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nowhere　else。　A　river；　made　by　scores　of　brooklets；　crosses　the　park

at　its　lower　level　with　a　serpentine　movement；　giving　a　dewy　freshness

and　tranquillity　to　the　scene；an　air　of　solitude；　which　reminds　one

of　a　convent　of　Carthusians；　and　all　the　more　because；　on　an

artificial　island　in　the　river；　is　a　hermitage　in　ruins；　the　interior

elegance　of　which　is　worthy　of　the　luxurious　financier　who　constructed

it。　Les　Aigues；　my　dear　Nathan；　once　belonged　to　that　Bouret　who　spent

two　millions　to　receive　Louis　XV。　on　a　single　occasion　under　his　roof。

How　many　ardent　passions；　how　many　distinguished　minds；　how　many

fortunate　circumstances　have　contributed　to　make　this　beautiful　place

what　it　is！　A　mistress　of　Henri　IV。　rebuilt　the　chateau　where　it　now

stands。　The　favorite　of　the　Great　Dauphin；　Mademoiselle　Choin　（to　whom

Les　Aigues　was　given）；　added　a　number　of　farms　to　it。　Bouret　furnished

the　house　with　all　the　elegancies　of　Parisian　homes　for　an　Opera

celebrity；　and　to　him　Les　Aigues　owes　the　restoration　of　its　ground

floor　in　the　style　Louis　XV。



I　have　often　stood　rapt　in　admiration　at　the　beauty　of　the　dining…

room。　The　eye　is　first　attracted　to　the　ceiling；　painted　in　fresco　in

the　Italian　manner；　where　lightsome　arabesques　are　frolicking。　Female

forms；　in　stucco　ending　in　foliage；　support　at　regular　distances

corbeils　of　fruit；　from　which　spring　the　garlands　of　the　ceiling。

Charming　paintings；　the　work　of　unknown　artists；　fill　the　panels

between　the　female　figures；　representing　the　luxuries　of　the　table；

boar's…heads；　salmon；　rare　shell…fish；　and　all　edible　things；which

fantastically　suggest　men　and　women　and　children；　and　rival　the

whimsical　imagination　of　the　Chinese；the　people　who　best　understand；

to　my　thinking　at　least；　the　art　of　decoration。　The　mistress　of　the

house　finds　a　bell…wire　beneath　her　feet　to　summon　servants；　who　enter

only　when　required；　disturbing　no　interviews　and　overhearing　no

secrets。　The　panels　above　the　doorways　represent　gay　scenes；　all　the

embrasures；　both　of　doors　and　windows；　are　in　marble　mosaics。　The　room

is　heated　from　below。　Every　window　looks　forth　on　some　delightful

view。



This　room　communicates　with　a　bath…room　on　one　side　and　on　the　other

with　a　boudoir　which　opens　into　the　salon。　The　bath…room　is　lined　with

Sevres　tiles；　painted　in　monochrome；　the　floor　is　mosaic；　and　the　bath

marble。　An　alcove；　hidden　by　a　picture　painted　on　copper；　which　turns

on　a　pivot；　contains　a　couch　in　gilt　wood　of　the　truest　Pompadour。　The

ceiling　is　lapis…lazuli　starred　with　gold。　The　tiles　are　painted　from

designs　by　Boucher。　Bath；　table　and　love　are　therefore　closely　united。



After　the　salon；　which；　I　should　tell　you；　my　dear　fellow；　exhibits

the　magnificence　of　the　Louis　XIV。　manner；　you　enter　a　fine　billiard…

room　unrivalled　so　far　as　I　know　in　Paris　itself。　The　entrance　to　this

suite　of　ground…floor　apartments　is　through　a　semi…circular

antechamber；　at　the　lower　end　of　which　is　a　fairy…like　staircase；

lighted　from　above；　which　leads　to　other　parts　of　the　house；　all　built

at　various　epochsand　to　think　that　they　chopped　off　the　heads　of　the

wealthy　in　1793！　Good　heavens！　why　can't　people　understand　that　the

marvels　of　art　are　impossible　in　a　land　where　there　are　no　great

fortunes；　no　secure；　luxurious　lives？　If　the　Left　insists　on　killing

kings　why　not　leave　us　a　few　little　princelings　with　money　in　their

pockets？



At　the　present　moment　these　accumulated　treasures　belong　to　a　charming

woman　with　an　artistic　soul；　who　is　not　content　with　merely　restoring

them　magnificently；　but　who　keeps　the　place　up　with　loving　care。　Sham

philosophers；　studying　themselves　while　they　profess　to　be　studying

humanity；　call　these　glorious　things　extravagance。　They　grovel　before

cotton　prints　and　the　tasteless　designs　of　modern　industry；　as　if　we

were　greater　and　happier　in　these　days　than　in　those　of　Henri　IV。；

Louis　XIV。；　and　Louis　XVI。；　monarchs　who　have　all　left　the　stamp　of

their　reigns　upon　Les　Aigues。　What　palace；　what　royal　castle；　what

mansions；　what　noble　works　of　art；　what　gold　brocaded　stuffs　are

sacred　now？　The　petticoats　of　our　grandmothers　go　to　cover　the　chairs

in　these　degenerate　days。　Selfish　and　thieving　interlopers　that　we

are；　we　pull　down　everything　and　plant　cabbages　where　marvels　once

were　rife。　Only　yesterday　the　plough　levelled　Persan；　that　magnificent

domain　which　gave　a　title　to　one　of　the　most　opulent　families　of　the

old　parliament；　hammers　have　demolished　Montmorency；　which　cost　an

Italian　follower　of　Napoleon　untold　sums；　Val；　the　creation　of

Regnault　de　Saint…Jean　d'Angely；　Cassan；　built　by　a　mistress　of　the

Prince　de　Conti；　in　all；　four　royal　houses　have　disappeared　in　the

valley　of　the　Oise　alone。　We　are　getting　a　Roman　campagna　around　Paris

in　advance　of　the　days　when　a　tempest　shall　blow　from　the　north　and

overturn　our　plaster　palaces　and　our　pasteboard　decorations。



Now　see；　my　dear　fellow；　to　what　the　habit　of　bombasticising　in

newspapers　brings　you　to。　Here　am　I　writing　a　downright　article。　Does

the　mind　have　its　ruts；　like　a　road？　I　stop；　for　I　rob　the　mail；　and　I

rob　myself；　and　you　may　be　yawningto　be　continued　in　our　next；　I

hear　the　second　bell；　which　summons　me　to　one　of　those　abundant

breakfasts　the　fashion　of　which　has　long　passed　away；　in　the　dining…

rooms　of　Paris；　be　it　understood。



Here's　the　history　of　my　Arcadia。　In　1815；　there　died　at　Les　Aigues

one　of　the　famous　wantons　of　the　last　century；a　singer；　forgotten　of

the　guillotine　and　the　nobility；　after　preying　upon　exchequers；　upon

literature；　upon　aristocracy；　and　all　but　reaching　the　scaffold；

forgotten；　like　so　many　fascinating　old　women　who　expiate　their　golden

youth　in　country　solitudes；　and　replace　their　lost　loves　by　another；

man　by　Nature。　Such　women　live　with　the　flowers；　with　the　woodland

scents；　with　the　sky；　with　the　sunshine；　with　all　that　sings　and　skips

and　shines　and　sprouts；the　birds；　the　squirrels；　the　flowers；　the

grass；　they　know　nothing　about　these　things；　they　cannot　explain　them；

but　they　love　them；　they　love　them　so　well　that　they　forget　dukes；

marshals；　rivalries；　financiers；　follies；　luxuries；　their　paste　jewels

and　their　real　diamonds；　their　heeled　slippers　and　their　rouge；all；

for　the　sweetness　of　country　life。



I　have　gathered；　my　dear　fellow；　much　precious　information　about　the

old　age　of　Mademoiselle　Laguerre；　for；　to　tell　you　the　truth；　the

after　life　of　such　women　as　Florine；　Mariette；　Suzanne　de　Val　Noble；

and　Tullia　has　made　me；　every　now　and　then；　extremely　inquisitive；　as

though　I　were　a　child　inquiring　what　had　become　of　the　old　moons。



In　1790　Mademoiselle　Laguerre；　alarmed　at　the　turn　of　public　affairs；

came　to　settle　at　Les　Aigues；　bought　and　given　to　her　by　Bouret；　who

passed　several　summers　with　her　at　the　chateau。　Terrified　at　the　fate

of　Madame　du　Barry；　she　buried　her　diamonds。　At　that　time　she　was　only

fifty…three　years　of　age；　and　according　to　her　lady's…maid；　afterwards

married　to　a　gendarme　named　Soudry；　〃Madame　was　more　beautiful　than

ever。〃　My　dear　Nathan；　Nature　has　no　doubt　her　private　reasons　for

treating　women　of　this　sort　like　spoiled　children；　excesses；　instead

of　killing　them；　fatten　them；　preserve　them；　renew　their　youth。　Under

a　lymphatic　appearance　they　have　nerves　which　maintain　their

marvellous　physique；　they　actually　preserve　their　beauty　for　reasons

which　would　make　a　virtuous　woman　haggard。　No；　upon　my　word；　Nature　is

not　moral！



Mademoiselle　Laguerre　lived　an　irreproachable　life　at　Les　Aigues；　one

might　even　call　it　a　saintly　one；　after　her　famous　adventure；you

remember　it？　One　evening　in　a　paroxysm　of　despairing　love；　she　fled

from　the　opera…house　in　her　stage　dress；　rushed　into　the　country；　and

passed　the　night　weeping　by　the　wayside。　（Ah！　how　they　have

calumniated　the　love　of　Louis　XV。's　time！）　She　was　so　unused　to　see

the　sunrise；　that　she　hailed　it　with　one　of　her　finest　songs。　Her

attitude；　quite　as　much　as　her　tinsel；　drew　the　peasants　about　her；

amazed　at　her　gestures；　her　voice；　her　beauty；　they　took　her　for　an

angel；　and　dropped　on　their　knees　around　her。　If　Voltaire　had　not

existed　we　might　have　thought　it　a　new　miracle。　I　don't　know　if　God

gave　her　much　credit　for　her　tardy　virtue；　for　love　after　all　must　be

a　sickening　thing　to　a　woman　as　weary　of　it　as　a　wanton　of　the　old

Opera。　Mademoiselle　Laguerre　was　born　in　1740；　and　her　hey…day　was　in

1760；　when　Monsieur　（I　forget　his　name）　was　called　the　〃ministre　de　la

guerre；〃　on　account　of　his　liaison　with　her。　She　abandoned　that　name；

which　was　quite　unknown　down　here；　and　called　herself　Madame　des

Aigues；　as　if　to　merge　her　identity　in　the　estate；　which　she　delighted

to　improve　with　a　taste　that　was　profoundly　artistic。　When　Bonaparte

became　First　Consul；　she　increased　her　property　by　the　purchase　of

church　lands；　for　which　she　used　the　proceeds　of　her　diamonds。　As　an

Opera　divinity　never　k