Madame Jaquotot was as liberal in the display of her productions, as she was agreeable and polite in her conversation.  I saw all her performances.  Her copies of Leonardo da Vinci and Guido, in black crayons, are beautiful of their kind; but her enamel copies, upon porcelaine, of the Portraits of the more celebrated Characters of France—­executed at the desire and expense of his Majesty—­perfectly delighted me.  The plan is as excellent as its execution is perfect.  But such performances have not been accomplished without a heavy previous expense, on the score of experiments.  I was told that the artist had sunk a sum little short of five or six hundred pounds sterling, in the different processes for trying and fixing her colours.  But she seems now to walk upon firm ground, and has nothing but an abundant harvest to look forward to.  Indeed, for every portrait, square, or oval, (although scarcely more than three inches in height) she receives a hundred louis d’or.  This is a truly princely remuneration:  but I do not consider it overpaid.  Some of the earlier portraits are taken from illuminated manuscripts; and, among them, I quickly recognised that of my old friend Anne of Brittany,—­head and shoulders only:  very brilliant and characteristic—­but Mr. Lewis is “yet a painter.”

As all these bijoux (amounting perhaps to twelve or fifteen in number) were displayed before me, I fancied I was conversing with the very Originals themselves.  The whole length of Henri IV., of the same size as the original in the Louvre, is probably the chef d’oeuvre of Madame Jaquotot.  It is exquisitely perfect.  When she comes down to the reign of Louis XIV., she has necessarily recourse to the originals of PETITOT; of which the Louvre contains a precious glazed case, enclosing about four or five dozen, of them.  Here again the copyist treads closely upon the heels of her predecessor; while her portrait of Anne of Austria comes fully up to every thing we discover in the original.  Upon the whole, I spent a pleasant and most instructive hour with this accomplished lady; and sincerely wish that all talents, like hers, may receive a similar direction and meet with an equally liberal reward.  You must not fail to bear in mind that, in my humble judgment, this department of art belongs strictly to NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES.

For one, who would turn his horse’s head towards Madame Jaquotot’s dwelling, in the Rue Jacob, fifty would fly with rapture to view a whole length by GERARD, or a group by DAVID.  In portrait painting, and historical composition, these are the peculiar heroes.  None dare walk within their circle:  although I think GIRODET may sometimes venture to measure swords with the latter.  Would you believe it?  The other day, when dining with some smart, lively, young Parisians, I was compelled to defend RAFFAELLE against David? the latter being considered by them superior to the Italian artist