George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor
George Hillard, Ed.

March 4.—. . . . I was tired in the evening, but went to Thiers', where, with a few other distinguished persons, chiefly politicians, I met Cousin, Villemain, and Mignet, and had a very agreeable talk. Cousin, however, I like as little as any man of letters I have seen. He has a falsetto, and a pretension with his vanity, that takes away much of the pleasure his talent and earnestness would give . . . .

March 6.—We went this morning with Count Circourt, and passed some hours in looking over the materials, and, as far as finished, the extraordinary work of Count Bastard, on the Arts of Design, from the fourth to the sixteenth century; the most splendid work of the kind that was ever issued from the press. . . . .

He has succeeded, thus far, admirably. But the amount of labor and money it has cost him is truly enormous. He has been obliged to have his paper made of linen cambric, in order that it might not injure the colors laid on it; he has been obliged to have all his colors specially made to suit his purpose, and he has been obliged to employ miniature painters of high merit to execute the designs, after the slight engraved outline has been struck off. In this way his own private fortune, which was large, was soon absorbed; Louis XVIII. and Charles X. gave him two million six hundred thousand francs; and when Thiers was Minister he took up the project with great zeal, and appropriated half a million a year for five years to it. Nine numbers are already prepared, and the whole number is to be forty-two; and each contains five or six plates . . . . . I must needs say, I never thought art could go so far. The imitation was absolute, and when an old Missal was put beside its copy, it seemed hardly possible to distinguish.¹ . . . .

March 9.—. . . . We made a hard forenoon's work of it this morning, in the Annual Exhibition of living artists; in the new collection of pictures the King has just caused to be brought from Spain; and in the collection of original drawings by the old masters. . . . .

In the evening I went to Mad. Mojon's, where, besides such persons as I commonly have met there, I found Tommaseo, the author of the ‘Duca d'atene.’ He is quite young still, and seemed full of feeling and talent. I talked with him a good deal, and, among other things, he told me he was employed on a work on the Philosophy of History.