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This is that CONSOLATION DES ARTS which is the key-note of Gautier's poetry, the secret of modern life foreshadowed as indeed what in our century is not? by Goethe.
Curiously enough, this Goya, who from the first plucked success from its thorny setting, was soon forgotten, and until Gautier in 1840 recorded his impressions in his brilliant Voyage en Espagne, critical literature did not much concern itself with the versatile Spaniard. And Gautier's sketch of a few pages still remains the most comprehensive estimate.
Innumerable poems and romances dealing with mysteriously-sad heroes were written in imitation of Byron; and young authors wore low, rolling collars, and tried to look depressed. See Gautier's Histoire du Romantisme. Usually spelled "Feverel." Stevenson strangely enough, was always a bad speller.
I was quite confident that at that hour I should find Elisabeth and her aunt in the big East Room at the president's reception, the former looking on with her uncompromising eyes at the little pageant which on reception days regularly went forward there. My conclusion was correct. I found a boy to hold my horse in front of Gautier's café.
However, he should be in very soon now, and then I, shall learn the news." Having delivered himself of this monologue, Dick Penryn lit his pipe, took up the book he had been reading, and was soon deep in the pages of Theophile Gautier's Voyage en l'Orient. Dick Penryn and Murray Frobisher, the friend to whom he had been alluding, were chums of many years' standing.
There are people who do not like the Alps. So much the worse for them. Alfred de Musset covered Maria Malibran's tomb with immortal flowers and he also told us the story of Pauline Garcia's debut. There is also something about it in Théophile Gautier's writings. It is clear from both accounts that her first appearance was an extraordinary occasion.
He wanted the laurel and not the rose, and he kept on repeating Gautier's axiom, and battering and filing at his limp prose till he'd spread it out over Lord knows how many thousand sloppy pages. Now and then he would send a pailful to a publisher, and of course it would always come back.
Swinburne's famous praise of Gautier's Mademoiselle de Maupin applies with far greater fitness to Pater's masterpiece; for, if ever a book deserved to be described as The golden book of spirit and sense, The holy writ of beauty, it is Marius the Epicurean.
"Have you still got that bee in your bonnet?" whispered Goddard scornfully. "When will your persecution of that girl cease? Your search this morning proved she hadn't any despatch. Besides, you did not actually see her pick up that said despatch in Gautier's; you simply jumped to that conclusion because the despatch was not on the floor when you reached their table.
His answer to this had been that they must remain children until he could spare the time to attend to them. The eldest boy, Rupert, was now at Sandhurst, Maxwell was being educated at Marlborough, and Noel, who was never very strong, was at present with Chris in Mademoiselle Gautier's care. The summer holiday at Valpré had been Mademoiselle's suggestion, and bitterly had she lived to regret it.
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