the tawny red hair and fan-shaped
beard, is rough as a communist, with his portentous cravat, his
sternness, his dignity, and curt speech.
These varieties of shopmen, corresponding to the principal types of
feminine customers, are arms, as it were, directed by the head, a stout
personage with a full-blown countenance, a partially bald forehead, and
a chest measure befitting a Ministerialist deputy. Occasionally this
person wears the ribbon of the Legion of Honor in recognition of the
manner in which he supports the dignity of the French drapers' wand.
From the comfortable curves of his figure you can see that he has a wife
and family, a country house, and an account with the Bank of France. He
descends like a _deus ex machina_, whenever a tangled problem demands a
swift solution. The feminine purchasers are surrounded on all sides
with urbanity, youth, pleasant manners, smiles, and jests; the most
seeming-simple human products of civilization are here, all sorted in
shades to suit all tastes.
Just one word as to the natural effects of architecture, optical
science, and house decoration; one short, decisive, terrible word, of
history made on the spot. The work which contains this instructive page
is sold at number 76 Rue de Richelieu, where above an elegant shop, all
white and gold and crimson velvet, there is an entresol into which
the light pours straight from the Rue de Menars, as into a painter's
studio--clean, clear, even daylight. What idler in the streets has not
beheld the Persian, that Asiatic potentate, ruffling it above the door
at the corner of the Rue de la Bourse and the Rue de Richelieu, with a
message to deliver _urbi et orbi_, "Here I reign more tranquilly than at
Lahore"? Perhaps but for this immortal analytical study, archaeologists
might begin to puzzle their heads about him five hundred years hence,
and set about writing quartos with plates (like M. Quatremere's work
on Olympian Jove) to prove that Napoleon was something of a Sofi in the
East before he became "Emperor of the French." Well, the wealthy shop
laid siege to the poor little entresol; and after a bombardment with
banknotes, entered and took possession. The Human Comedy gave way before
the comedy of cashmeres. The Persian sacrificed a diamond or two from
his crown to buy that so necessary daylight; for a ray of sunlight shows
the play of the colors, brings out the charms of a shawl, and doubles
its value; 'tis an irresistible light; lite
|