I wrote to my Aunt Ruxton a long--much too long an account of our
Chamouni excursion, since which we have dined at Pictet's with his
daughters, Madame Prevost Pictet and Madame Vernet, agreeable, sensible,
and the remains of great beauty; but the grandest of all his married
daughters is Madame Enard. M. Enard is building a magnificent house, the
admiration, envy, and _scandal_ of Geneva; we have called it the Palais
de la Republique.
Dumont, tell Honora, is very kind and cordial; he seems to enjoy
universal consideration here, and he loves Mont Blanc next to Bentham,
above all created things: I had no idea till I saw him here how much he
enjoyed the beauties of nature. He gave us a charming anecdote of Madame
de Staël when she was very young. One day M. Suard, as he entered the
saloon of the Hotel Necker, saw Madame Necker going out of the room, and
Mademoiselle Necker standing in a melancholy attitude with tears in her
eyes. Guessing that Madame Necker had been lecturing her, Suard went
towards her to comfort her, and whispered, _"Un caresse du papa vous
dedommagera bien de tout ça."_ She immediately, wiping the tears from
her eyes, answered, _"Eh! oui, Monsieur, mon père songe à mon bonheur
present, maman songe à mon avenir."_ There was more than presence of
mind, there was heart and soul and greatness of mind, in this answer.
Dumont speaks to me in the kindest, most tender, and affectionate manner
of our _Memoirs_; he says he hears from England, and from all who have
read them, that they have produced the effect we wished and hoped; the
MS. had interested him, he said, so deeply that with all his efforts he
could not then put himself in the place of the indifferent public.
M. Vernet, Pictet's son-in-law, mentioned a compliment of a Protestant
curé at Geneva to the new Catholic Bishop which French politeness might
envy, and which I wish that party spirit in Ireland and all over the
world could imitate. "_Monseigneur, vous êtes dans un pays où la moitié
du peuple vous ouvre leurs coeurs, et l'autre moitié vous tende les
bras."
We have taken a pretty and comfortable caleche for our three weeks' tour
with the Moilliets. But I must tell you of our visit to M. and Madame de
Candolle; we went there to see some volumes of drawings of flowers which
had been made for him. I will begin from the beginning; Joseph
Buonaparte, who has been represented by some as a mere drunkard, did,
nevertheless, some good things; he encouraged a Spaniard of botanical
skill to go over to Mexico and make a Mexican flora; he employed Mexican
artists, and expended considerable sums of money upon it; the work was
completed, but the engraving had not been commenced when the revolution
drove Joseph from his throne. The Spaniard withdrew from Spain, bringing
with him his botanical treasure, and took refuge at Marseilles, where he
met De Candolle, who, on looking over his Mexican flora, said it was
admirably well done for Mexicans, who had no access to European books,
and he pointed out its deficiencies; they worked at it for eighteen
months, when De Candolle was to return to Geneva, and the Spaniard said
to him, "Take the book--as far as I am concerned, I give it to you, but
if my government should reclaim it, you will let me have it." De
Candolle took it and returned to Geneva, where he became not only famous
but beloved by all the inhabitants. This summer he gave a course of
lectures on botany, which has been the theme of universal admiration.
Just as the lectures finished, a letter came from the Spaniard, saying
he had been unexpectedly recalled to Spain, that the King had offered to
him the Professorship he formerly held, that he could not appear before
the King without his book; and that, however unwilling, he must request
him to return it in eight days. One of De Candolle's young-lady pupils
was present when he received the letter and expressed his regret at
losing the drawings: she exclaimed, "We will copy them for you." De
Candolle said it was impossible--1500 drawings in eight days! He had
some duplicates, however, and some which were not peculiar to Mexico he
threw aside; this reduced the number to a thousand, which were
distributed among the volunteer artists. The talents and the industry
shown, he says, were astonishing; all joined in this benevolent
undertaking without vanity and without rivalship; those who could not
paint drew the outlines; those who could not draw, traced; those who
could not trace made themselves useful by carrying the drawings
backwards and forwards. One was by an old lady of eighty. We saw
thirteen folio volumes of these drawings done in the eight days! Of
course some were much worse than others, but even this I liked: it
showed that individuals were ready to sacrifice their own _amour propre_
in a benevolent undertaking.
De Candolle went himself with the original Flora to the frontier; he was
to send it by Lyons. Now the custom-house officers between the territory
of Geneva and France are some of the most strict and troublesome in the
universe, and when they saw the book they said, "You must pay 1500
francs for this." But when the chief of the Douane heard the story, he
caught the enthusiasm, and with something like a tear in the corner of
his eye, exclaimed, "We must let this book pass. I hazard my place; but
let it pass."
_To_ MISS LUCY EDGEWORTH.