Courts and courtiers -- Fiction; Europe -- History -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The room was a landmark, as we used to think, an inviolable milestone
and landmark, of old Valenciennes fashion--that sombre style, indulging
much in contrasts of black or deep brown with white, which the
Spaniards left behind them here. Doubtless their eyes had found its
shadows cool and pleasant, when they shut themselves in from the
cutting sunshine of their own country. But in our country, [21] where
we must needs economise not the shade but the sun, its grandiosity
weighs a little on one's spirits. Well! the rough plaster we used to
cover as well as might be with morsels of old figured arras-work, is
replaced by dainty panelling of wood, with mimic columns, and a quite
aerial scrollwork around sunken spaces of a pale-rose stuff and certain
oval openings--two over the doors, opening on each side of the great
couch which faces the windows, one over the chimney-piece, and one
above the buffet which forms its vis-a-vis--four spaces in all, to be
filled by and by with "fantasies" of the Four Seasons, painted by his
own hand. He will send us from Paris arm-chairs of a new pattern he
has devised, suitably covered, and a painted clavecin. Our old silver
candlesticks look well on the chimney-piece. Odd, faint-coloured
flowers fill coquettishly the little empty spaces here and there, like
ghosts of nosegays left by visitors long ago, which paled thus,
sympathetically, at the decease of their old owners; for, in spite of
its new-fashionedness, all this array is really less like a new thing
than the last surviving result of all the more lightsome adornments of
past times. Only, the very walls seem to cry out:--No! to make
delicate insinuation, for a music, a conversation, nimbler than any we
have known, or are likely to find here. For himself, he converses
well, but very sparingly. He assures us, indeed, that the [22] "new
style" is in truth a thing of old days, of his own old days here in
Valenciennes, when, working long hours as a mason's boy, he in fancy
reclothed the walls of this or that house he was employed in, with this
fairy arrangement--itself like a piece of "chamber-music," methinks,
part answering to part; while no too trenchant note is allowed to break
through the delicate harmony of white and pale red and little golden
touches. Yet it is all very comfortable also, it must be confessed;
with an elegant open place for the fire, instead of the big old stove
of brown tiles. The ancient, heavy furniture of our grandparents goes
up, with difficulty, into the garrets, much against my father's
inclination. To reconcile him to the change, Antony is painting his
portrait in a vast perruque, and with more vigorous massing of light
and shadow than he is wont to permit himself.
June 1714.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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