Instead of the pale,
downcast, or upturned faces, which form the general types of Madonna,
he gives her to us, in one painting, as a gorgeous Oriental sultana,
leaning over a balcony, with full, dark eye and jewelled turban, and
rounded outlines, sustaining on her hand a brilliant paroquet.
Ludicrous as this conception appears in a scriptural point of view, I
liked it because there was life in it; because he had painted it from
an internal sympathy, not from a chalky, second-hand tradition.
And now, farewell to Antwerp. Art has satisfied me at last. I have
been conquered, and that is enough.
To-morrow for Paris. Adieu.
LETTER XLVIII.
PARIS, Saturday, August 20.
MY DEAR:--
I am seated in my snug little room at M. Belloc's. The weather is
overpoweringly hot, but these Parisian houses seem to have seized and
imprisoned coolness. French household ways are delightful. I like
their seclusion from the street, by these deep-paved quadrangles. I
like these cool, smooth, waxed floors so much that I one day queried
with my friends, the C.'s, whether we could not introduce them into
America. L., who is a Yankee housekeeper, answered, with spirit, "No,
indeed; not while the mistress of the house has every thing to do, as
in America; I think I see myself, in addition to all my cares, on my
knees, waxing up one of these floors.
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