The cough you mention has been epidemic here. The thermometer as low as
9° on the morning of the 15th; next day 40°, and the most charming
weather has succeeded: the streets have been so well washed by the rain
and scraped by the snow-cleaners, that they are actually dry and clean
for the first time since October, which is fortunate, as the streets are
crowded with people for the carnival, some in masks, some disguised as
apothecaries, old women, harlequins, and knights-errant, followed by
hundreds and thousands of men, women, and children, to whom they say
what they can, generally nonsense devoid of wit.
Last Thursday, _jeudi-gras_, we dined at two, and were at St. Germain at
six, at Madame Campan's, where we had been invited to see some plays
acted by her pupils. The little theatre appeared already full when we
entered. We stood a few seconds near the door, when Madame Campan cried
out from above, "Placez Madame Edgeworth, faites monter Madame et sa
compagnie." So we went up to the gallery, where we had very good places
next to a Polish Princess and half a dozen of her countrywomen, who are
all polite and well-bred. The crowd increased, many more than there was
room for. The famous Madame Visconti and Lady Yarmouth sat behind us.
Lady Elizabeth Foster and Lady Bessborough not far from us; and below
there were a number of English, the Duchess of Gordon and her beautiful
daughter, Lady Georgiana. Madame Louis Buonaparte, who had been one of
Madame Campan's _élèves_, was the principal Frenchwoman. The piece,
_Esther_, was performed admirably; the singing of the choir of young
girls charming, and the _petite pièce, La Rosière de Salency_, was
better still: you know it is a charming thing, and was made so touching
as to draw tears from every eye.
* * * * *
Mrs. Edgeworth writes:
At the time this letter was written rumours that war would break out
with England began to be prevalent in Paris. Mr. Edgeworth inquired
among his friends, who said they feared it was true. He decided to set
out immediately, and we began to pack up. Other friends contradicted
this fear. We were anxious on another account to leave Paris, from the
bad state of Henry Edgeworth's health, his friends at Edinburgh urging
us to go there to see him. Better news of him, and the hope that the
rumours of war were unfounded, made us suspend our packing. M. Le Breton
called, and said he was sure of knowing before that evening the truth as
to Buonaparte's warlike intentions, and that if Mr. Edgeworth met him at
a friend's that night, he would know by his suddenly putting on his hat
that war was imminent. He was unable to visit us again, and afraid if he
wrote that his letter might be intercepted, and still more was he afraid
of being overheard if he said anything at the party where they were to
meet. Mr. Edgeworth went, and saw M. Le Breton, who did suddenly put on
his hat, and on Mr. Edgeworth's return to us he said we must go.
The next day was spent in taking leave of our kind friends, from whom we
found it so painful to part, and who expressed so much regret at losing
us, and so much doubt as to the probability of war, that Mr. Edgeworth
promised that if on his arrival in London, his Paris friends wrote to
say Peace, he would return to them, and bring over the rest of his
family from Ireland for a year's residence.
MARIA EDGEWORTH _to_ MRS. MARY SNEYD.