DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0091
THE FAMILY IN THE CAIRO MUSEUM
though, if I remember rightly, they could bear comparison
with that slender little creature. No: it was nothing personal;
personal contacts in Paris mostly result in bitterness and
disillusion and disgust. Why then do we love the place and
live there for years and feel at home there? Not on account of
the Louvre, outside or in, not on account of any building, or
because the gardens, squares and streets are more attractive
there than elsewhere, or the pictures more numerous. Any-
thing you could photograph would be merely incidental. It
is rather because it is easier to live in these gardens, squares
and streets, and among the people in these gardens, squares,
and streets: because one’s contacts here cause less friction
and yet are closer, because one feels something like the
atmosphere that envelops our Family. It is convention again;
not that of the second Empire or the first, not that of Louis
Seize or Louis Quinze in particular, but a little of all at once.
It glitters like a mote in the sunbeam, is everywhere and
nowhere, and in men — to my mind — it shows itself only in
their most superficial actions. It shows itself in the accidental
appearance, only yesterday, of a painter like Corot, that most
actual and agreeable of beings. His private instincts at times
bring him very near our Family.
Corot and ancient Egypt! People will think I am going
crazy. Of course I am not being serious: no, indeed. I can’t
explain, and would gladly admit the possibility of its all being
written out in hieroglyphs on the foot of our statue, which
prevents its helping us much. I don’t understand hieroglyphs
and regret it, but if the possession of such knowledge pre-
vented my desire to explain the mystery I would rather be
without it. For the mystery is what captivates us; and it
applies as much to our group as to Corot’s pictures. What
we call his Greek aspect, and might with more reason call his
Egyptian aspect, is his power of communicating with kindred
spirits and bringing them together: his spontaneous per-
suasiveness. Without it Corot would be a landscape-painter,
79
though, if I remember rightly, they could bear comparison
with that slender little creature. No: it was nothing personal;
personal contacts in Paris mostly result in bitterness and
disillusion and disgust. Why then do we love the place and
live there for years and feel at home there? Not on account of
the Louvre, outside or in, not on account of any building, or
because the gardens, squares and streets are more attractive
there than elsewhere, or the pictures more numerous. Any-
thing you could photograph would be merely incidental. It
is rather because it is easier to live in these gardens, squares
and streets, and among the people in these gardens, squares,
and streets: because one’s contacts here cause less friction
and yet are closer, because one feels something like the
atmosphere that envelops our Family. It is convention again;
not that of the second Empire or the first, not that of Louis
Seize or Louis Quinze in particular, but a little of all at once.
It glitters like a mote in the sunbeam, is everywhere and
nowhere, and in men — to my mind — it shows itself only in
their most superficial actions. It shows itself in the accidental
appearance, only yesterday, of a painter like Corot, that most
actual and agreeable of beings. His private instincts at times
bring him very near our Family.
Corot and ancient Egypt! People will think I am going
crazy. Of course I am not being serious: no, indeed. I can’t
explain, and would gladly admit the possibility of its all being
written out in hieroglyphs on the foot of our statue, which
prevents its helping us much. I don’t understand hieroglyphs
and regret it, but if the possession of such knowledge pre-
vented my desire to explain the mystery I would rather be
without it. For the mystery is what captivates us; and it
applies as much to our group as to Corot’s pictures. What
we call his Greek aspect, and might with more reason call his
Egyptian aspect, is his power of communicating with kindred
spirits and bringing them together: his spontaneous per-
suasiveness. Without it Corot would be a landscape-painter,
79