These personal details may appear to be unimportant, and to savour somewhat of society small talk, but they are really of moment to us, as they convey a graphic impression of the man who had so much to do with forming the character of the new sovereign, and thus left his mark upon the whole of the reign. Thus it was that Louis the Fifteenth developed into a man of a mould entirely different from that of his august grandfather; and to so great an extent, indeed, that more than one credible history sums him up as being a debauched and feeble-minded monarch whose follies and extravagances were largely accountable for the storm that forced his harmless and lovable successor to the guillotine in the dread "ninety-three." The sword of Achilles had fatigued even Achilles himself, but it was an insupportable burden to his puny successor, to whom even the more homely and reposeful environment of the Trianon, which realised the ideal of comfort to Louis the Fourteenth, was unbearably oppressive. Consequently, in order to accord with his less ambitious wishes, the Little Trianon was erected, after designs by Gabriel, and became the king's favourite residence.

The keynote of the reign, then, was effeminacy, and it is that quality which we shall naturally find predominates in the work of those whose living depended upon their pleasing, and by pleasing securing the patronage of, the members of the court. Let it not be inferred for one moment that I employ the word "effeminacy" in its association with arts of the times as a term of reproach, however it may be regarded in other walks of life; nothing could be further from my intention. "Effeminacy," we are told by the dictionary, means "womanish softness and delicacy"; and what more delightful quality could we have in the home to lighten the struggle and turmoil of the average daily existence? Stately dignity and sturdy simplicity may be all very well in their way; and, theoretically, we may hold the ancient Spartan models of training and general deportment in the highest reverence, and quote them, in inspiriting accents, to members of the rising generation. But how delightful it is, sometimes, to throw oneself on to a heap of downy cushions - " effeminate " cushions. This may not sound heroic. It is not; but it is a sentiment with which I know the vast majority of my readers will agree. As to our own furniture of olden days, greatly as we admire those sturdy "Elizabethan" and "Jacobean" forms, and love to look at them as they grace our collections of treasures, we hardly select them as asylums of repose when we are in need of rest. If we be forced to do so because other more comfortable seats are occupied, how heartily we wish that a greater measure of "effeminacy" had been instilled into the furniture of our early progenitors. It is wonderful what a few deft touches by a woman's hand will do where questions of comfort have to be decided. Of course, there is effeminacy and effeminacy, but I am not afraid of my meaning being misinterpreted.

Changed as was the monarchy, there was no diminution in the encouragement afforded by the State, as well as by private patrons, to the arts. Indeed, it was increased rather than otherwise, and the workers in the appartements au Louvre, the State factories at Sevres, and private ateliers, were more fully occupied than ever in conceiving and producing beautiful creations for their luxury-loving patrons. The impetus given to the cultivation of the applied arts during the preceding reign - the underlying reasons for, and conditions of, which have been gone into at some length in the last chapter - was still bearing rich fruit, though the growth, character, and flavour of that fruit had changed most materially; and never was the cabinet maker more prolific in ideas than at the time of which I am now writing. So vast was the output, and so varied its description, that to illustrate here even one-thousandth part of all that was done is not to be dreamed of. We shall only be able to glance at leading characteristics, and to acquire such knowledge as we can of salient features which will enable us to be in a position to explain why certain forms are styled "Louis-Quinze," and to recognise at once any piece that partakes of the chief elements of that mode.

The designers who were responsible for the inception of the "Louis-Quinze," had commenced to tire of the straight line, and of rectangular forms generally. They argued, probably, that as there is not a single rectangle, straight line, or even "compass line," in the human form, and particularly in the female form in its perfection, which in those days above all was regarded as the ideal of beauty, a rigid adherence to those factors was not calculated to lead to the attainment of either perfect comfort or perfect elegance. In consequence of following this course of reasoning, they arrived at the determination to see what could be done by abandoning the straight and rectangular, and cultivating the curvilinear wherever practicable. The requirements of comfort and elegance were carefully studied at the same time, and the furnishing of the palace, the chateau, and even the modest home, from being stiff and formal, became inviting, and was imbued with a spirit entirely different from that which had, for the most part, previously pervaded it.

What a contrast to the condition of affairs which prevailed throughout the preceding reign, when rest and pleasure came as a relaxation from, but still were regarded as an interruption of, work. Under the indolent sway of Philip of Orleans, and later of the rightful sovereign himself, work seemed to be regarded in the light of an interruption of the pursuit of pleasure - as a necessary evil; and all who could shirk it, by any means whatsoever, did shirk it most effectually. The "Louis-Quinze" chair, for instance, with its silent eloquence, tells a story different from that told by its comparatively severe predecessor. It does not grudgingly proffer its services for temporary repose with the suggestion that we shall rise from it with renewed energy for further labours, but tempts us by its sinuous and subtle allurements so hard to be resisted. "Come," it seems to say, "come, my inviting arms and downy softness await you. Why think of work when I am here? Come, and forget all in my embrace. Take your fill of placid enjoyment; throw all else to the winds; and let others work who will." Something purely sensuous, indeed, pervades the whole of the best and most typical "Louis-Quinze," which more than merely reflects the prevailing spirit of the times; it is literally steeped in it in every form and detail. Everywhere we have the bewitching female face - not of the saint, but of the syren - smiling up into ours, and tempting us to linger. Figures are clad in the lightest of light draperies, which accentuate rather than conceal; and the female bust itself, but partially covered if covered at all, is wherever possible brought into undue prominence. Truly, these things constituted a fitting environment for a prince possessed of such predilections as was Louis the Fifteenth.