Most comfortably, most happily seated at a little table in dear Madame
Gautier's cabinet, with a view of soft acacias seen through half-open
Venetian blinds, with a cool breeze waving the trees of this hanging
garden, and the song of birds and the cheerful voices of little Caroline
Delessert and her brother playing with bricks in the next room to me, I
write to you, my beloved friend. I must give you a history of one of our
last days at Paris--
Here entered Madame Gautier with a sweet rose and a sprig of verbena and
mignonette--so like one of the nose-gays I have so often received from
dear Aunt Ruxton, and bringing gales of Black Castle to my heart. But to
go on with my last days at Paris.
_Friday, July_ 14.--Dancing-master nine to ten; and while Fanny and
Harriet were dancing, I paid bills, saw tradespeople, and cleared away
some of that necessary business of life which must be done behind the
scenes. Breakfasted at Camille Jordan's: it was half-past twelve before
the company assembled, and we had an hour's delightful conversation with
Camille Jordan and his wife in her spotless white muslin and little cap,
sitting at her husband's feet as he lay on the sofa, as clean, as nice,
as fresh, and as thoughtless of herself as my mother. At this breakfast
we saw three of the most distinguished of that party who call themselves
_Les Doctrinaires_--and say they are more attached to measures than to
men. Camille Jordan himself has just been deprived of his place of
Conseiller d'État and one thousand five hundred francs per annum,
because he opposed government in the law of elections. These three
Doctrinaires were Casimir Périer, Royer Collard, and Benjamin Constant,
who is, I believe, of a more violent party. I do not like him at all:
his countenance, voice, manner, and conversation are all disagreeable to
me. He is a fair, _whithky_-looking man, very near-sighted, with
spectacles which seem to pinch his nose. He pokes out his chin to keep
the spectacles on, and yet looks over the top of his spectacles,
_squinching_ up his eyes so that you cannot see your way into his mind.
Then he speaks through his nose, and with a lisp, strangely contrasting
with the vehemence of his emphasis. He does not give me any confidence
in the sincerity of his patriotism, nor any high idea of his talents,
though he seems to have a mighty high idea of them himself. He has been
well called _Le hero des brochures._ We sat beside one another, and I
think felt a mutual antipathy. On the other side of me was Royer
Collard, suffering with toothache and swelled face; but, notwithstanding
the distortion of the swelling, the natural expression of his
countenance and the strength and sincerity of his soul made their way,
and the frankness of his character and plain superiority of his talents
were manifest in five minutes' conversation. Excellent Degerando
[Footnote: A friend whom the Edgeworths had constantly met in Mme. de
Pastoret's _salon_ in 1802.] gave me an account of all he had done in
one district in Spain, where he succeeded in employing the poor and
inspiring them with a desire to receive the wages of industry, instead
of alms from hospitals, etc. At Rome he employed the poor in clearing
away many feet of earth withinside the Colosseum, and discovered beneath
a beautiful pavement; but when the Pope returned the superstition of the
people took a sudden turn, and conceiving that this earth had been
consecrated, and ought not to have been removed, they set to work and
filled in all the rubbish again over the pavement!
After this breakfast we went to the Duchesse d'Uzès--a little,
shrivelled, thin, high-born, high-bred old lady, who knew and admired
the Abbé Edgeworth, and received us with distinction as his relations.
Her great-grandfather was the Duc de Chatillon, and she is
great-granddaughter, or something that way, of Madame de Montespan, and
her husband grand-nephew straight to Madame de la Valliere: their superb
hotel is filled with pictures of all sizes, from miniatures by Petitôt
to full-lengths by Mignard, of illustrious and interesting family
pictures--in particular, Mignard's "La Valliere en Madeleine;" we
returned to it again and again, as though we could never see it enough.
A full-length of Madame de Montespan was prettier than I wished. After a
view of these pictures and of the garden, in which there was a catalpa
in splendid flower, we departed.
This day we dined with Lord Carrington and his daughter, Lady Stanhope:
[Footnote: Catherine Lucy, wife of the fourth Earl Stanhope.] the Count
de Noé, beside whom I sat, was an agreeable talker. In the evening we
received a note from Madame Lavoisier--Madame de Rumford, I
mean--telling us that she had just arrived at Paris, and warmly begging
to see us. Rejoiced was I that my sisters should have this glimpse of
her, and off we drove to her; but I must own that we were disappointed
in this visit, for there was a sort of _chuffiness_, and a sawdust kind
of unconnected cutshortness in her manner, which we could not like. She
was almost in the dark with one ballooned lamp, and a semicircle of
black men round her sofa, on which she sat cushioned up, giving the word
for conversation--and a very odd course she gave to it--on some wife's
separation from her husband; and she took the wife's part, and went on
for a long time in a shrill voice, proving that, where a husband and
wife detested each other, they should separate, and asserting that it
must always be the man's fault when it comes to this pass! She ordered
another lamp, that the gentlemen might, as she said, see my sisters'
pretty faces; and the light came in time to see the smiles of the
gentlemen at her matrimonial maxims. Several of the gentlemen were
unknown to me. Old Gallois sat next to her, dried, and in good
preservation, tell my mother; M. Gamier (_Richesses des Nations_) was
present, and Cuvier, with whom I had a comfortable dose of good
conversation. Just as we left the room Humboldt and the Prince de
Beauveau arrived, but we were engaged to Madame Recamier.
_15th._--We breakfasted with Madame de l'Aigle, sister to the Due de
Broglie. (Now Madame Gautier is putting on her bonnet, to take us to La
Bagatelle.) I forgot to tell you that Prince Potemkin is nephew to _the_
famous Potemkin. He has just returned from England, particularly pleased
with Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, and struck by the noble and useful manner in
which he spends his large fortune. This young Russian appears very
desirous to apply all he has seen in foreign countries to the advantage
of his own.
After our breakfast at Madame de l'Aigle's, we went home, and met Prince
Edmond de Beauveau by appointment, and went with him to the Invalides;
saw the library, and plans and models of fortifications, for which the
Duc de Coigny, unasked, had sent us tickets, and there we met his
secretary, a warm Buonapartist, whom we honoured for his gratitude and
attachment to his old master.
We dined at Passy, and met Mrs. Malthus, M. Garnier, and M. Chaptal--the
great Chaptal--a very interesting man. In the evening we were at the
Princesse de Beauveau's and Lady Granard's.
Sunday with the Miss Byrnes to Notre Dame, and went with them to
introduce them to Lady (Sidney) Smith; charming house, gardens, and
pictures. To Madame de Rumford's, and she was very agreeable this
morning. Dined at Mr. Creed's under the trees in their garden, with Mr.
and Mrs. Malthus, and Mrs. and Miss Eyre, fresh from Italy--very
agreeable.
Now we have returned from a very pleasant visit to La Bagatelle. What
struck me most there was the bust of the Duc d'Angoulême, with an
inscription from his own letter during the Cent Jours, when he was
detained by the enemy: _J'espère--j'exige même--que le Roi ne fera point
de sacrifice pour me revoir; je crains ni la prison ni la mort._
Yesterday we went to Sevres--beautiful manufacture of china, especially
a table, with views of all the royal palaces, and a vase six feet and a
half high, painted with natural flowers.
Louis XV. was told that there was a man who had never been out of Paris;
he gave him a pension, provided he never went out of town; he quitted
Paris the year after! I have not time to make either prefaces or moral.
We breakfast at Mr. Chenevix's on Monday, and propose to be at Geneva on
Saturday.
_To_ MISS LUCY EDGEWORTH.