150 A Chapter from the Memoirs of QAuG. 



by the variety of light and shade, and, in the human form more espe- 

 cially, has, with either sex, an animal stimulant imparted to it by the 

 voluptuous and fleshy tone of the colouring. But sculpture takes a 

 higher flight ; it appeals, not to the passions, but addresses the judg- 

 ment — the sensibility — the poetic and religious enthusiasm of the spec- 

 tator. Who, that has once seen them, can ever forget the spirit in which 

 he viewed Canova's Graces ? In those divine forms there lurked no sti- 

 mulant to sense ; though naked, tliey were robed in purity ; no fire sliot 

 from their eye ; no young blood ran riot in their veins ; no wanton smile 

 played round their lips ; a white vii-gin modesty — cold — stainless as the 

 marble out of which they sprung, clothed them from head to foot as 

 with a garment, and kept oif all impure ideas. It was in this light that 

 I was in the habit of daily gazing on these august sisters, and fancying 

 that, in the loveliest of the three, I could discern some faint resem- 

 blance to Hortense. 



I have before observed, that Herwaldsen was a man of the world : I 

 here repeat that assertion. Though devoted to his incomparable mistress, 

 his affection for her was not of an engrossing character : it was shared 

 equally with his ambition, Hortense, on the other hand, had but one 

 idea — that of enthusiastic attachment to Herwaldsen. Never yet did 

 Hindoo worship his favourite idol Avith one half the earnestness with 

 which she devoted herself to my friend. Father — mother — kinsmen — 

 fiiends — home — country, in his presence, were all alike forgotten : for 

 liim alone she lived — of him alone she thought — he was her study by 

 day, her dream by night — for his sake she was content to immure herself 

 in solitude — to forego even the commonest privileges of her sex, and 

 bloom a shy, sweet flower, preserved in native freshness by the vivifying 

 powder of that spirit which abideth in hearts that know no guile, and 

 thoughts that need no restraint. Sometimes, when a cloud passed over 

 her, drawn from the recollection of her father, a Avord of kindness from 

 HerM'aldsen — even a look — a smile — a fond pressm-e of the soft Avhite 

 hand held gently out to his, would at once dispel the gloom ; and she 

 would rise the lovelier from her tears, like the violet, when the April 

 shower has passed over it. Once, and but once, I saw her, even in his 

 presence, wholly overcome. We had all been to pay a visit to the cathe- 

 drfd, and were standing absorbed in admiration — Hortense, especially, 

 to whom the scene was neW' — at its grand and harmonious proportions, 

 its rich gothic fret-work, its vaulted roof, its tall, umbered columns, its 

 magnificent stained windows, through which the red evening light shot 

 in upon the broad stone floors with a brilliant but mellowed effidgence ; 

 ■when, suddenly, the organ, accompanied by the fine tones of the choris- 

 ters, who were rehearsing for the ensuing Sabbath, began pealing 

 forth its awful hosannahs. As the music rose on the ear, climbing up 

 the fluted columns, rounding the arched roof, and filling up each nook 

 and cranny of the cathedral with its sonorous and soul-stirring melody, 

 the eyes of Hortense fi Jed with tears ; sobs, deep convulsive sobs, burst 

 from the inmost depths of her heart ; she recalled to mind the scene, the 

 hour, when she had last heard that music in the convent of Terracina, 

 while her father stood beside her ; and would have sunk to the ground, 

 had not Herwaldsen, surprised and half-vexed at her weakness, whis- 

 pered me to lead her out of the chapel, and accompany her back to the 

 cottage, Avhither he promised he would shortly follow, 



It was a dull cveuing, and our road home lay chiefly through the 



