Dear sir,
I have this moment received your letter, and as a courier is just
setting out, I had rather take the opportunity of writing to you
a short letter than defer it for a longer.
I had a very good passage, and pleasant journey, and find myself
surprisingly recovered for the time. Thank you for the good news
you tell me of your coming: it gives me great joy.
To the end of this week I shall be in Lord Hertford's house; so
have not yet got a lodging: but when I do, you will easily find
me. I have no banker, but credit on a merchant who is a private
friend of ]lord Hertford; consequently, I cannot give you credit
on him: but you shall have the use of my credit, which will be
the same thing; and we can settle our accounts together. I
brought about a hundred pounds with me, as I would advise you to
do. Guineas you may change into louis or French crowns at Calais
and Boulogne; and even small bank-bills will be taken here. In
any shape I will assist you. Be careful on the road. My
portmanteau, with part of my linen, was stolen from before my
chaise at noon, while I went to see Chantilly. If you stir out
of your room, lock the door of it in the inn, or leave your man
in it. If you arrive near the time you propose, you will find me
here, and I hope much longer.
Letter 270 To George Montagu, Esq.
Paris, Sept. 22, 1765. (page 425)
The concern I felt at not seeing you before I left England, might
make me express myself warmly, but I assure you it was nothing
but concern, nor was mixed with a grain of pouting. I knew some
of your reasons, and guessed others. The latter grieve me
heartily; but I advise you to do as I do - when I meet with
ingratitude, I take a short leave both of it and its host.
Formerly I used to look out for indemnification somewhere else;
but having lived long enough to learn that the reparation
generally proved a second evil of the same sort, I am content now
to skin over such wounds with amusements, which at least have no
scars. It is true, amusements do not always amuse when we bid
them. I find it so here; nothing strikes me; every thing I do is
indifferent to me. I like the people very well, and their way of
life very well; but as neither were my object, I should not much
care if they were any other people, or it was any other way of
life. I am out of England and my purpose is answered.
Nothing can be more obliging than the reception I meet with every
where. It may not be more sincere (and why should it?) than our
cold and bare civility; but it is better dressed, and looks
natural: one asks no more. I have begun to sup in French houses,
and as Lady Hertford has left Paris to-day, shall increase my
intimacies. There are swarms of English here, but most of them
are going, to my great satisfaction. As the greatest part are
very young, they can no more be entertaining to me than I to
them, and it certainly was not my countrymen that I came to live
with. Suppers please me extremely; I love to rise and breakfast
late, and to trifle away the day as I like. there are sights
enough to answer that end, and shops you know are an endless
field for me The city appears much worse to me than I thought I
remembered it. The French music as shocking as I knew it was.
The French stage is fallen off though in the only part I have
seen Le Kain(870) I admire him extremely. He is very ugly and
ill made,(871) and yet has an heroic dignity which Garrick wants,
and great fire. The Dumenil I have not seen yet, but shall in a
day or two. It is a mortification that I cannot compare her with
the Clairon,(872) who has left the stage. Grandval I saw through
a whole play without suspecting it was he. Alas! four-and-twenty
years make strange havoc with us mortals! You cannot imagine how
this struck me! The Italian comedy, now united with their Opera
comique, is their most perfect diversion; but alas! Harlequin, my
dear favourite harlequin, my passion, makes me more melancholy
than cheerful. Instead of laughing, I sit silently reflecting
how every thing loses charms when one's own youth does not lend.
its gilding! When we are divested of that eagerness and illusion
with which our youth presents objects to us, we are but the caput
mortuum of pleasure.
Grave as these ideas are, they do not unfit me for French
company. The present tone is serious enough in conscience.
unluckily, the subjects of their conversation are duller to me
than my own thoughts, which may be tinged with melancholy
reflections, but I doubt from my constitution will never be
insipid.
The French affect philosophy, literature, and freethinking: the
first never did, and never will possess me; of the two others I
have long been tired. Freethinking is for one's self, surely not
for society; besides one has settled one's way of thinking, or
knows it cannot be settled, and for others I do not see why there
is not as much bigotry in attempting conversions from any
religion as to it. I dined to-day with a dozen savans, and
though all the servants were waiting, the conversation was much
more unrestrained, even on the Old Testament, than I would suffer
at my own table in England, if a single footman was present. For
literature, it is very amusing when one has nothing else to do.
I think it rather pedantic in society; tiresome when displayed
professedly; and, besides, in this country one is sure, it is
only the fashion of the day. Their taste in it is worst of
all: could one believe that when they read our authors,
Richardson and Mr. Hume should be their favourites? The latter is
treated here with perfect veneration. His history, so falsified
in many points, so partial in as many, so very unequal in its
parts, is thought the standard of writing.
In their dress and equipages they are grown very simple. We
English are living upon their old gods and goddesses; I roll
about in a chariot decorated with cupids, and look like the
grandfather of Adonis.
Of their parliaments and clergy I hear a good deal, and attend
very little - I cannot take up any history in the middle, and was
too sick of politics at home to enter into them here. In short,
I have done with the world, and live in it rather than in a
desert, like you. Few men can bear absolute retirement, and we
English worst of all. We grow so humoursome, so obstinate and
capricious, and so prejudiced, that it requires a fund of
good-nature like yours not to grow morose. Company keeps our
rind from growing too coarse and rough; and though at my return I
design not to mix in public, I do not intend to be quite a
recluse. My absence will put it in my power to take up or drop
as much as I please. Adieu! I shall inquire about your
commission of books, but having been arrived but ten days, have
not yet had time. Need I say?--no I need not--that nobody can be
more affectionately yours than, etc.
870) Le Kain was born at Paris in 1725, and died there in 1778.
He was originally brought up a surgical instrument maker; but his
dramatic talents having been made known to Voltaire, he took him
under his instructions, and secured him an engagement at the
Fran`cais, where he performed for the first time in 1750.-E.
(871) "Cet acteur," says Baron de Grimm, "n'est presque jamais
faux, mais malheureusement il a voix, figure, tout, contre lui.
Une sensibilit`e forte et profonde, qui faisait disparaitre la
laideur de ses traits sous le charme de l'expression dont elle
les rendait susceptible, et ne laissait aper`cevoir que lea
caract`ere et la passion dont son `ame `etait remplie, et lui
donnait @ chaque instant de nouvelles formes et nouvel `etre."-E.
(872) See ant`e, p. 383, letter 245. Mademoiselle Clairon was
born in 1723, and made her first appearance at Paris in 1743, in
the character of Ph`edre. She died at Paris in 1803. Several of
her letters to the British Roscius will be found in the Garrick
Correspondence. On her acting, when in the Zenith of her
reputation, Dr. Grimm passes the following judgment:--"Belle
Clairon, vous avez beaucoup d'esprit: votre jeu est profond`ement
raisonn`e; mais la passion a-t-elle le temps de raisoner? Vous
n'avez ni naturel ni entrailles; vous ne d`echirez jamais les
miennes; vous ne faites jamais couler mes pleurs; vous mettez des
silences `a tout; vous voulez faire sentir chaque hemistiche; et
lorsque tout fait effet dans votre jeu, je vois que la totalit`e
de la sc`ene n'en fait plus aucun."-E.
Letter 271 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Oct. 3, 1765. (page 427)
Still, I have seen neither Madame d'Egmont nor the Duchess
d'Aiguillon, who are in the country; but the latter comes to
Paris to-morrow. Madame Chabot I called on last night. She Was
not at home, but the H`otel de Carnavalet;(873) was; and I
stopped on purpose to say an ave-maria before it. It is a very
singular building, not at all in the French style, and looks like
an ex voto raised to her honour by some of her foreign votaries.
I don't think her honoured half enough in her own country. I
shall burn a little incense before your Cardinal's heart,(874)
Madam, `a votre intention.
I have been with Madame Geoffrin several times, and think she has
one of the best understandings I ever met, and more knowledge of
the world. I may be charmed with the French, but your ladyship
must not expect that they will fall in love with me. Without
affecting to lower myself, the disadvantage of speaking a
language worse than any idiot one meets, is insurmountable: the
silliest Frenchman is eloquent to me, and leaves me embarrassed
and obscure. I could name twenty other reasons, if this one was
not sufficient. As it is, my own defects are the sole cause of
my not liking Paris entirely: the constraint I am under from not
being perfectly master of their language, and from being so much
in the dark, as one necessarily must be, on half the subjects of
their conversation, prevents me enjoying that ease for which
their society is calculated. I am much amused, but not
comfortable.
The Duc de Nivernois is extremely good to me; he inquired much
after your ladyship. So does Colonel Drumgold.(875) The latter
complains; but both of them, especially the Duc, seem better than
when in England. I met the Duchesse de COSS`e,(876) this evening
at Madame Geoffrin's. She is pretty, with a great resemblance to
her father; lively and good-humoured, not genteel.
Yesterday I went through all my presentations at Versailles.
'Tis very convenient to gobble up a whole royal family in an
hour's time, instead of being sacrificed one week at
Leicester-house, another in Grosvenor-street, a third in
Cavendish-square, etc. etc. etc. La Reine is le plus grand roi
du monde,(877) and talked much to me, and would have said more if
I would have let her; but I was awkward and shrunk back into the
crowd. None of the rest spoke to me. The King is still much
handsomer than his pictures, and has great sweetness in his
countenance, instead of that farouche look which they give him.
The Mesdames are not beauties, and yet have something Bourbon in
their faces. The Dauphiness I approve the least of all: with
nothing good-humoured in her countenance, she has a look and
accent that made me dread lest I should be invited to a private
party at loo with her.(878) The poor Dauphin is ghastly, and
perishing before one's eyes.
Fortune bestowed on me a much more curious sight than a set of
princes; the wild beast of the Govaudan,(879) which is killed,
and actually is in the Queen's antechamber. It is a thought less
than a leviathan, and the beast in the Revelations, and has not
half so many wings, and yes, and talons, as I believe they have,
or will have some time or other; this being possessed but of two
eyes, four feet, and no wings at all. It is as fine a wolf' as a
commissary in the late war, except, notwithstanding all the
stories, that it has not devoured near so many persons. In
short, Madam, now it is dead and come, a wolf it certainly was,
and not more above the common size than Mrs. Cavendish is. It has
left a dowager and four young princes.
Mr. Stanley, who I hope will trouble himself with this, has been
most exceedingly kind and obliging to me. I wish that, instead
of my being so much in your ladyship's debt, you were a little in
Mine, and then I would beg you to thank him for me. Well, but as
it is, why should not you, Madam? He will be charmed to be so
paid, and you will not dislike to please him. In short, I would
fain have him know my gratitude; and it is hearing it in the most
agreeable way, if expressed by your ladyship.
(873) Madame de S`evign`e's residence in Paris.-E.
(874) The Cardinal de Richelieu's heart at the Sorbonne.-E.
(875) Colonel Drumgold was born at Paris in 1730, and died there
in 1786. Dr. Johnson, in giving Boswell an account of his visit
to Paris in 1775, made the following mention of him: "I was just
beginning to creep into acquaintance, by means of Colonel
Drumgold, a very high man, Sir, head of l,'Ecole Militaire, and a
most complete character, for he had first been a professor of
rhetoric, and then became a soldier." He was The author of "La
Gaiet`e," a poem, and several other pieces.-E.
(876) wife of the Duc de Coss`e Brisac, governor of Paris. She
was a daughter of the Duc de Nivernois.-E.
(877) Madame de S`evign`e thus expresses herself of Louis XIV.
after his having taken much notice of her at Versailles.-E.
(878) He means, that the Dauphiness had a resemblance to the
Princess Amelia.-E.
(879) This enormous wolf, for wolf it proved to be, gave rise to
many extraordinary reports. The following account of it is from
the Gentleman's Magazine for 1764: "A very strange description is
given in the Paris Gazette of a wild beast that has appeared in
the neighbourhood of Langagne and the forest of Mercoire, and has
occasioned great consternation. It has already devoured twenty
persons, chiefly Children, and particularly young, girls; and
scarce a day passes without some accidents. the terror it
occasions prevents the woodcutters from working in the forest.
those who have seen him say he is much higher than a wolf, low
before, and his feet are armed with talons. His hair is reddish,
his head large, and the muzzle of it shaped like that of a
greyhound; his ears are small and straight, his breast wide and
of a gray colour; his back streaked with black; and his mouth
which is large, is provided with a set of teeth so very sharp
that they have taken off several heads as clean as a razor could
have done. He is of amazing swiftness; but when he aims at his
prey, he couches so close to the ground that he hardly appears to
be bigger than a large fox, and at the distance of one or two
fathoms he rises upon his hind legs and springs upon his prey,
which he always seizes by the neck or throat. The consternation
is universal throughout the districts where he commits his
ravages, and public prayers are offered up upon this occasion.
The Marquis de Morangis has sent out four hundred peasants to
destroy this fierce beast; but they have not been able to do it.
He has since been killed by a soldier, and appears to be a
hyena." E.
Letter 272 To John Chute, Esq.
Paris, Oct. 3, 1765. (page 429)
I don't know where you are, nor when I am likely to hear of you.
I write it random, and, as I talk, the first thing that comes
into my pen.
I am, as you certainly conclude, much more amused than pleased.
At a certain time of life, sights and new objects may entertain
one, but new people cannot find any place in one's affection.
New faces with some name or other belonging to them, catch my
attention for a minute--I cannot say many preserve it. Five or
six of the women that I have seen already are very sensible. The
men are in general much inferior, and not even agreeable. They
sent us their best, I believe, at first, the Duc de Nivernois.
Their authors, who by the way are every where, are worse than
their own writings, which I don't mean as a compliment to either.
In general, the style of conversation is solemn, pedantic, and
seldom animated, but by a dispute. I was expressing my aversion
to disputes Mr. Hume, who very gratefully admires the tone of
Paris, having never known any other tone, said with great
surprise, "Why, what do you like, if you hate both disputes and
whisk?" What strikes me the most upon the whole is, the total
difference of manners between them and us, from the greatest
object to the least. There is not the smallest similitude in the
twenty-four hours. It is, obvious in every trifle. Servants
carry their lady's train, and put her into her coach with their
hat on. They walk about the streets in the rain with umbrellas
to avoid putting on their hats - driving themselves in open
chaises in the country without hats, in the rain too, and yet
often wear them in a chariot in Paris when it does not rain. The
very footmen are powdered from the break of day, and yet wait
behind their master, as I saw the Duc of Praslin's do, with a red
pocket handkerchief about their necks. Versailles, like every
thing else, is a mixture of parade and poverty, and in every
instance exhibits something most dissonant from our manners. In
the colonnades, upon the staircases, nay in the antechambers of
the royal family, there are people selling all sorts of wares.
While we were waiting in the Dauphin's sumptuous bedchamber, till
his dressing-room door should be opened, two fellows were
sweeping it, and dancing about in sabots to rub the floor.
You perceive that I have been presented. The Queen took great
notice of me; none of the rest said a syllable. You are let into
the King's bedchamber just as he has put on his shirt; he dresses
and talks good-humouredly to a few, glares at strangers, goes to
mass--to dinner, and a-hunting. The good old Queen, who is like
Lady Primrose in the face, and Queen Caroline in the immensity of
her cap, is at her dressing-table, attended by two or three old
ladies, who are languishing to be in Abraham's bosom, as the only
man's bosom to whom they can hope for admittance. Thence you go
to the Dauphin, for all is done in an hour. He scarce stays a
minute; indeed, poor creature, he is a ghost, and cannot possibly
last three months. The Dauphiness is in her bedchamber, but
dressed and standing; looks cross, is not civil, and has the true
Westphalian grace and accents. The four Mesdames, who are clumsy
plump old wenches, with a bad likeness to their father, stand in
a bedchamber in a row, with black cloaks and knotting-bags,
looking good-humoured, not knowing what to say, and wriggling as
if they wanted to make water. This ceremony too is very short:
then you are carried to the Dauphin's three boys, who you may be
sure only bow and stare. The Duke of Berry(880) looks weak, and
weak-eyed: the Count de ProvenCe(881) is a fine boy; the Count
d'Artois(882) well enough. The whole concludes with seeing the
Dauphin's little girl dine, who is as round and as fat as a
pudding.
the Queen's antechamber we foreigners and the foreign ministers
were shown the famous beast of the Govaudan, just arrived, and
covered with a cloth, which two chasseurs lifted up. It is an
absolute wolf, but uncommonly large, and the expression of agony
and fierceness remains strongly imprinted on its dead jaws.
I dined at the Duc of Praslin's with four-and-twenty ambassadors
and envoys, who never go out but on Tuesdays to court. He does
the honours sadly, and I believe nothing else well, looking
important and empty. The Duc de Choiseul's face, which is quite
the reverse of gravity, does not promise much more. His wife is
gentle, pretty, and very agreeable. The Duchess of Praslin,
jolly, red-faced, looking very vulgar, and being very attentive
and civil. I saw the Duc de Richelieu in waiting, who is pale,
except his nose, which is red, much wrinkled, and exactly a
remnant of that age which produced General Churchill, Wilkes the
player, the Duke of Argyle, etc. Adieu!
(880) Afterwards the unfortunate Louis XVI.-E.
(881) Afterwards Louis XVIII.-E.
(882) Afterwards Charles X.-E
Letter 273 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Oct, 6, 1765. (page 431)
I am glad to find that you grow just, and that you do conceive at
last, that I could do better than stay in England for politics.
"Tenez, mon enfant," as the Duchesse de la Fert`e said to Madame
Staal;(883) "comme il n'y a que moi au monde qui aie toujours
raison," I will be very reasonable; as you have made this
concession to me, who knew I was in the right I will not expect
you to answer all my reasonable letters. If you send a bullying
letter to the King of Spain,(884) or to Chose, my neighbour
here,(885) I will consider them as written to myself, and
subtract so much from your bill. Nay, I will accept a line from
Lady Ailesbury now and then in part of payment. I shall continue
to write as the wind sets in my pen; and do own my babble does
not demand much reply.
For so reasonable a person as I am, I have changed my mind very
often about this country. The first five days I was in violent
spirits; then came a dismal cloud of whisk and literature, and I
could not bear it. At present I begin, very englishly indeed, to
establish a right to my own way. I laugh, and talk nonsense, and
make them hear me. There are two or three houses where I go
quite at my ease, am never asked to touch a card, nor hold
dissertations. Nay, I don't pay homage to their authors. Every
woman has one or two planted in her house, and God knows how they
water them. The old President HainaUlt(886) is the pagod at
Madame du Deffand's, an old blind debauch`ee of wit, where I
supped last night. The President is very near deaf, and much
nearer superannuated. He sits by the table: the mistress of the
house, who formerly was his, inquires after every dish on the
table, is told who has eaten of which, and then bawls the bill of
fare of every individual into the President's ears. In short,
every mouthful is proclaimed, and so is every blunder I make
against grammar. Some that I make on purpose, succeed: and one
of them is to be reported to the Queen to-day by Hainault, who is
her great favourite. I had been at Versailles and having been
much taken notice of by her Majesty, I said, alluding to madame
S`evign`e, La Reine est le plus grand roi du monde. You may
judge if I am in possession by a scene that passed after supper.
Sir James macdonald(887) had been mimicking Hume: I told the
women, who, besides the mistress, were the Duchess de la
Vali`ere,(888) Madame de Forcalquier,(889) a demoiselle, that to
be sure they would be glad to have a specimen of Mr. Pitt's
manner of speaking; and that nobody mimicked him so well as
Elliot.(890) They firmly believed it, teased him for an hour,
and at last said he was the rudest man in the world not to oblige
them. It appeared the more strange, because here every body
sings, reads their own works in public, or attempts any one thing
without hesitation or capacity. Elliot speaks miserable French;
which added to the diversion.
I had had my share of distress in the morning, by going through
the operation of being presented to the royal family, down to the
little Madame's pap-dinner, and had behaved as sillily as you
will easily believe; hiding myself behind every mortal. The
Queen called me up to her dressing-table, and seemed mightily
disposed to gossip with me; but instead of enjoying my glory like
Madame de S`evign`e, I slunk back into the crowd after a few
questions. She told Monsieur de Guerchy of it afterwards, and
that I had run away from her, but said she would have her revenge
at Fontainbleau. So I must go thither, which I do not intend.
The King, Dauphin, Dauphiness, Mesdames, and the wild beasts did
not say a word to me. Yes, the wild beast, he of the Gevaudan.
He is killed, and actually in the Queen's antechamber, where he
was exhibited to us with as much parade as if it was Mr. Pitt.
It is an exceedingly large wolf, and, the connoisseurs say, has
twelve teeth more than any wolf ever had since the days of
Romulus's wet nurse. The critics deny it to be the true beast;
and I find most people think the beast's name is legion,--for
there are many. He was covered with a sheet, which two chasseurs
lifted up for the foreign ministers and strangers. I dined at
the Duke of Praslin's with five-and-twenty tomes of the corps
diplomatique; and after dinner was presented, by Monsieur de
Guerchy, to the Duc de Choiseul. The Duc de Praslin is as like
his own letters in D'Eon's book as he can stare; that is, I
believe a very silly fellow. His wisdom is of the grave kind.
His cousin, the first minister, is a little volatile being, whose
countenance and manner had nothing to frighten me for my country.
I saw him but for three seconds, which is as much as he allows to
any one body or thing. Monsieur de Guerchy, whose goodness to me
is inexpressible, took the trouble of walking every where with
me, and carried me particularly to see the new office for state
papers. I wish I could send it you. It is a large building,
disposed like an hospital, with the most admirable order and
method. Lodgings for every officer; his name and business
written over his door. In the body is a perspective of seven or
eight large chambers: each is painted with emblems, and
wainscoted with presses with wired doors and crimson curtains.
Over each press, in golden letters, the country to which the
pieces relate, as Angleterre, Allemagne, etc. Each room has a
large funnel of bronze with or moulu, like a column to air the
papers and preserve them. In short, it is as magnificent as
useful.
Prom thence I went to see the reservoir of pictures at M. de
Marigny's. They are what are not disposed of in the palaces,
though sometimes changed with others. This refuse, which fills
many rooms from top to bottom, is composed of the most glorious
works of Raphael, L. da Vinci, Giorgione, Titian, Guido,
Correggio, etc. Many pictures, which I knew by their prints,
without an idea where they existed, I found there.
The Duc de Nivernois is extremely obliging to me. I have supped
at Madame de Bentheim's, who has a very fine house and a woful
husband. She is much livelier than any Frenchwoman. The
liveliest I have seen is the Duc de Duras:(891) he is shorter and
plumper Lord Halifax, but very like him in the face. I am to sup
with the Dussons(892) on Sunday. In short, all that have been in
England are exceedingly disposed to repay any civilities they
received there. Monsieur de Caraman wrote from the country to
excuse his not coming to see me, as his Wife is On the point of
being brought to bed, but begged I would come to them. So I
would, if I was a man-midwife: but though they are easy On Such
heads, I am not used to it, and cannot make a party of pleasure
of a labour.
Wilkes arrived here two days ago, and announced that he was going
minister to Constantinople.(893) To-day I hear he has lowered
his credentials, and talks of going to England, if he can make
his peace.(894) I thought by the manner in which this was
mentioned to me, that the person meant to Sound me: but I made no
answer: for, having given up politics in England, I certainly did
not come to transact them here. He has not been to make me the
first visit, which, as the last arrived, depends on him: so,
never having spoken to him in my life, I have no call to seek
him. I avoid all politics so much, that I had not heard one word
here about Spain. I suppose my silence passes for very artful
mystery, and puzzles the ministers who keep spies on the most
insignificant foreigner. It would have been lucky if I had been
as watchful. At Chantilly I lost my portmanteau with half my
linen; and the night before last I was robbed of a new frock,
waistcoat, and breeches, laced with gold, a white and silver
waistcoat, black velvet breeches, a knife, and a book. These are
expenses I did not expect, and by no means entering into my
system of extravagance.
I am very sorry for the death of Lord Ophaly, and for his family.
I knew the poor young man himself but little, but he seemed
extremely good-natured. What the Duke of Richmond will do for a
hotel, I cannot conceive. Adieu!
(883) See M`emoires de Madame de Staal (the first authoress of
that name) published with the rest of her works, in three small
volumes.-E.
(884) Mr. Conway was now secretary of state for the foreign
department.-E.
(885) Louis XV.-E.
(886) Le Pr`esident Hainault, surintendant de la maison de
Mademoiselle la Dauphine, membre de l'Acad`emie Fran`caise et de
l'Acad`emie des Inscriptions, known by his celebrated work, the
Abr`eg`e Chronologique de l'Histoire, de France, and from the
excellent table which he kept, and which was the resort of all
the wits and savans of the day. His cook was considered the best
in Paris, and the master was worthy of his cook; a fact which
Voltaire celebrates in the opening lines of the epitaph which he
wrote for him--
"Hainault, fameux par vos soupers,
Et votre Chronologic," etc.-E.
(887) Sir James Macdonald of Macdonald, the eighth baronet, who
died at Rome on the 26th of July 1766, in the twenty-fifth year
of his age, regretted by all who knew him. In the inscription on
his monument, executed at Rome and erected in the church of
Slate, his character is thus drawn by his friend Lord
Lyttelton:--"He had attained to so eminent a degree of knowledge
in mathematics, philosophy, languages, and in every branch of
useful and polite learning, as few have acquired in a long life
wholly devoted to study; yet to this erudition he joined, what
can rarely be found with it, great talents for business, great
propriety of behaviour, great politeness of manners: his
eloquence was sweet, correct and flowing; his memory vast and
exact; his judgment strong and acute." On visiting Slate, in
1773, Dr. Johnson observed to Boswell, that this inscription
"should have been in Latin, as every thing intended to be
universal and permanent should be." Upon this mr. Croker
remarks,--"What a strange Perversion of language!--universal!
Why, if it had been in Latin, so far from being universally
understood, it would have been an utter blank to one (the better)
half of the creation, and even of the men who might visit it,
ninety-nine will understand it in English for one who could in
Latin. Something may be said for epitaphs and inscriptions
addressed, as it were, to the world at large--a triumphal arch --
the pillar at Blenheim--the monument on the field of Waterloo:
but a Latin epitaph in an English church, appears, in principle,
as absurd as the dinner, which the doctor gives in Peregrine
Pickle, 'after the manner of the ancients.' A mortal may surely
be well satisfied if his fame lasts as long as the language in
which he spoke or wrote."-E.
(888) La Duchesse de la Vali`ere, daughter of the Duc d'Usez.
She was one of the handsomest women in France, and preserved her
beauty even to old age. She died about the year 1792, at the age
of eighty.-E.
(889) The Comtesse de Forcalquier, n`ee Canizy. She had ben
first married to the Comte d'Antin, son to the Comtesse de
Toulouse, by a marriage previous to that with the Comte de
Toulouse, one of the natural children of Louis Quatorze, whom he
legitimated.-E.
(890) Sir Gilbert Elliot Of Minto. He was appointed a lord of
the admiralty in 1756, treasurer of the chamber in 1762, keeper
of the signets for Scotland in 1767, and treasurer of the navy in
1770. He died in 1777.-E.
(891) Le Duc de Duras, one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber at
the court of France.-E.
(892) M. D'Usson, who had formerly been in England in a
diplomatic capacity; see ant`e p. 219, letter 157. He was
brother to the Marquis de Bonnac, the French ambassador at the
Hague.-E.
(893) Wilkes's application for the embassy to Constantinople was
an unsuccessful one. It will be seen in the Chatham
Correspondence, that in February 1761, he had solicited of Mr.
Pitt a seat at the board of trade. "I wish," he says, "the board
of trade might be thought a place in which I could be of any
service: whatever the scene is, I shall endeavour to have the
reputation of acting in a manner worthy of the connexion I have
the honour to be in; and, among all the chances and changes of a
political world, I will never have an obligation in a
parliamentary way but to Mr. Pitt and his friends." Vol. ii. p.
94.-E.
(894) After his outlawry.
Letter 274 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Oct. 13, 1765. (page 434)
How are the mighty fallen! Yes, yes, Madam, I am as like the Duc
de Richelieu as two peas; but then they are two old withered gray
peas. Do you remember the fable of Cupid and Death, and what a
piece of work they made with hustling their arrows together?
This is just my case: Love might shoot at me, but it was with a
gouty arrow. I have had a relapse in both feet, and kept my bed
six days but the fit seems to be going off; my heart can already
go alone, and my feet promise themselves the mighty luxury of a
cloth shoe in two or three days. Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay,(895) who
are here, and are, alas! to carry this, have been of great
comfort to me, and have brought their delightful little daughter,
who is as quick as Ariel. Mr. Ramsay could want no assistance
from me: what do we both exist upon here, Madam, but your bounty
and charity? When did you ever leave one of your friends in want
of another? Madame Geotrrin came and sat two hours last night by
my bedside: I could have sworn it had been my Lady Hervey,(896)
she was so good to me. It was with so much sense, information,
instruction, and correction! The manner of the latter charms me.
I never saw any body in my days that catches one's faults and
vanities and impositions so quick, that explains them to one so
clearly, and convinces one so easily. I never liked to be set
right before! You cannot imagine how I taste it! I make her both
my confessor and director, and beam to think I shall be a
reasonable creature at last, which I had never intended to be.
The next time I see her, I believe I shall say, "Oh! Common
Sense, sit down: I have been thinking so and so; is not it
absurd?" for t'other sense and wisdom, I never liked them; I
shall now hate them for her sake. If it was worth her while, I
assure your ladyship she might govern me like a child.(897)
The Duc de Nivernois too is astonishingly good to me. In short,
Madam, I am going down hill, but the sun sets pleasingly. Your
two other friends have been in Paris; but I was confined, and
could not wait on them. I passed a whole evening with Lady Mary
Chabot most agreeably: she charged me over and over with a
thousand compliments to your ladyship. For sights, alas! and
pilgrimages, they have been cut short! I had destined the fine
days of October to excursions; but you know, Madam, what it is to
reckon without one's host, the gout. It makes such a coward of
me, that I shall be afraid almost of entering a church. I have
lost, too, the Dumenil in Ph`edre and Merope, two of her
principal parts, but I hope not irrecoverably.
Thank you, Madam, for the Taliacotian extract: it diverted me
much. It is true, in general I neither see nor desire to see our
wretched political trash: I am sick of it up to the
fountain-head. It was my principal motive for coming hither; and
had long been my determination, the first moment I should be at
liberty, to abandon it all. I have acted from no views of
interest; I have shown I did not; I have not disgraced myself-
-and I must be free. My comfort is, that, if I am blamed, it
will be by all parties. A little peace of mind for the rest of
my days is all I ask, to balance the gout.
I have writ to Madame de Guerchy about Your orange-flower water;
and I sent your ladyship two little French pieces that I hope you
received. The uncomfortable posture in which I write will excuse
my saying any more; but it is no excuse against my trying to do
any thing to please one, who always forgets pain when her friends
are in question.
(895) Allan Ramsay, the painter.
(896) Baron de Grimm, in speaking of Madame Geoffrin, says:--
"This lady's religion seems to have always proceeded on two
principles: the one, to do the greatest quantity of good in her
power; the other, to respect scrupulously all established forms,
and even to lend herself, with great complaisance, to all the
different movements of public opinion."-E.
(897) Gibbon, in a letter to his father, of the 24th of February
1763, says:--"Lady Hervey's recommendation to Madame Geoffrin was
a most excellent one: her house is a very good one; regular
dinners there every Wednesday, and the best company in Paris, in
men of letters and people of fashion. It was at her house I
connected myself with M. Helvetius, who, from his heart, his
head, and his fortune, is a most valuable man."-E.
Letter 275 To George Montagu, Esq.
Paris, Oct. 16, 1765. (page 436)
I am here, in this supposed metropolis of pleasure, triste
enough; hearing from nobody in England, and again confined with
the gout in both feet: yes, I caught cold, and it has returned;
but as I begin to be a little acquainted with the nature of its
caresses, I think the violence of its passion this time will be
wasted within the fortnight. Indeed, a stick and a great shoe do
not commonly compose the dress which the English come hither to
learn; but I shall content myself if I can limp about enough to
amuse my eyes; my ears have already had their fill, and are not
at all edified. My confinement preserves me from the journey to
Fontainbleau, to which I had no great appetite; but then I lose
the opportunity of seeing Versailles and St. Cloud at my leisure.
I wrote to you soon after my arrival; did you receive it? All the
English books you named to me are to be had here at the following
prices. Shakspeare in eight volumes unbound for twenty-one
livres; in larger paper for twenty-seven. Congreve, in three
volumes for nine livres. Swift, in twelve volumes for twenty-four
livres, another edition for twenty-seven. So you see I do not
forget your commissions: if you have farther orders, let me know.
Wilkes is here, and has been twice to see me in my illness. He
was very civil, but I cannot say entertained me much. I saw no
wit; his conversation shows how little he has lived in good
company, and the chief turn of it is the grossest bawdy.(898) He
has certainly one merit, notwithstanding the bitterness of his
pen, that is, he has no rancour; not even against Sandwich, of
whom he talked with the utmost temper. He showed me some of his
notes on Churchill's works, but they contain little more than one
note on each poem to explain the subject of it.
The Dumenil is still the Dumenil, and nothing but curiosity could
make me want the Clairon. Grandval is grown so fat and old, that
I saw him through a whole play and did not guess him. Not one
other, that you remember on the stage, remains there.
It is not a season for novelty in any way, as both the court and
the world are out of town. The few that I know are almost all
dispersed. The old president Henault made me a visit yesterday:
he is extremely amiable, but has the appearance of a
superannuated bacchanal; superannuated, poor soul! indeed he is!
The Duc de Richelieu is a lean old resemblance of old General
Churchill, and like him affects still to have his Boothbies.
Alas! poor Boothbies!
I hope, by the time I am convalescent, to have the Richmonds
here. One of the miseries of chronical illnesses is, that you
are a prey to every fool, who, not knowing what to do with
himself, brings his ennui to you, and calls it charity. Tell me
a little the intended dates of your motions, that I may know
where to write at you. Commend me kindly to Mr. John, and wish
me a good night, of which I have had but one these ten days.
(898) "I scarcely ever," says Gibbon, who happened to dine in the
company of Wilkes in September 1762, "met with a better
companion; he has inexhaustible spirits, infinite wit and humour,
and a great deal of knowledge; but a thorough profligate in
principle as in practice; his life stained with every vice, and
his conversation full of blasphemy and indecency."-E.
Letter 276 To The Countess Of Suffolk.(899)
Paris, Oct. 16, 1765. (page 437)
Though I begin my letter to-day, Madam, it may not be finished
and set out these four days; but serving a tyrant who does not
allow me many holiday-minutes, I am forced to seize the first
that offer. Even now when I am writing upon the table, he is
giving me malicious pinches under it. I was exceedingly obliged
to Miss Hotham for her letter, though it did not give me so good
an account of your ladyship as I wished. I will not advise you
to come to Paris, where, I assure you, one has not a nip less of
the gout than at London, and where it is rather more difficult to
keep one's chamber pure; water not being reckoned here one of the
elements of cleanliness. If ever my Lady Blandford and I make a
match, I shall insist on her coming hither for a month first, to
learn patience. I need have a great stock, who have only
travelled from one sick bed to another; who have seen nothing;
and who hear of nothing but the braveries of Fontainbleau, where
the Duc de Richelieu, whose year it is, has ordered seven new
operas besides other shows. However, if I cannot be diverted, my
ruin at least is protracted, as I cannot go to a single shop.
Lady Mary Chabot has been so good as to make me a visit. She is
again gone into the country till November, but charged me over
and over to say a great deal for her to your ladyship, for whom
she expresses the highest regard. Lady Brown is still in the
country too; but as she loves laughing more than is fashionable
here, I expect her return with great impatience. As I neither
desire to change their religion or government, I am tired of
their perpetual dissertations on those subjects. As when I was
here last, which, alas! is four-and-twenty ears ago, I was much
at Mrs. Hayes's, I thought it but civil to wait on her now that
her situation is a little less brilliant. She was not at home,
but invited me to supper next night. The moment she saw me I
thought I had done very right not to neglect her; for she
overwhelmed me with professions of her fondness for me and all my
family. When the first torrent was over, she asked me if I was
son of the Horace Walpole who had been ambassador here. I said
no, he was my uncle. Oh! then you are he I used to call my
Neddy! No, Madam, I believe that is my brother. Your brother!
What is my Lord Walpole? My cousin, Madam. Your cousin! why,
then, who are you? I found that if I had omitted my visit, her
memory of me would not have reproached me much.
Lord and Lady Fife are expected here every day from Spa; but we
hear nothing certain yet of their graces of Richmond, for whom I
am a little impatient; and for pam too, who I hope comes with
them. In French houses it is impossible to meet with any thing
but whist, which I am determined never to learn again. I sit by
and yawn; which, however, is better than sitting at it to yawn.
I hope to be able to take the air in a few days; for though I
have had sharp pain and terrible nights, this codicil to my gout
promises to be of much shorter duration than what I had in
England, and has kept entirely to my feet. My diet sounds like
an English farmer's, being nothing but beef and pudding; in truth
the beef' is bouilli, and the pudding bread. This last night has
been the first in which I have got a wink of sleep before six in
the morning: but skeletons can live very well without eating or
sleeping; nay, they can laugh too, when they meet with a jolly
mortal of this world.
Mr. Chetwynd, I conclude, is dancing at country balls and
horseraces. It is charming to be so young;(900) but I do not
envy one whose youth is so good-humoured and good-natured. When
he gallops post to town, or swims his horse through a MillpODd In
November, pray make my compliments to him, and to Lady Blandford
and Lady Denbigh. The joys of the gout do not put one's old
friends out of one's head, even at this distance. I am, etc.
(899) Now first collected.
(900) See ant`e, p. 412, letter 259.-E.
Letter 277 To Thomas Brand, Esq.(901)
Paris, Oct. 19, 1765. (page 438)
Don't think I have forgot your commissions: I mentioned them to
old Mariette this evening, who says he has got one of them, but
never could meet with the other, and that it will be impossible
for me to find either at Paris. You know, I suppose, that he
would as soon part with an eye as with any thing in his own
collection.
You may, if you please, suppose me extremely diverted here, Oh!
exceedingly. In the first place, I have seen nothing; in the
second, I have been confined this fortnight with a return of the
gout in both feet; and in the third, I have not laughed since my
Lady Hertford went away. I assure you, you may come hither very
safely, and be in no danger from mirth. Laughing is as much out
of fashion as pantins or bilboquets. Good folks, they have no
time to laugh. There is God and the King to be pulled down
first; and men and women, one and all, are devoutly employed in
the demolition. They think me quite profane, for having any
belief left. But this is not my only crime - I have told them,
and am undone by it, that they have taken from us to admire the
two dullest things we had, whisk and Richardson. It is very
true, and they -want nothing but George Grenville to make their
conversations, or rather dissertations, the most tiresome upon
earth. For Lord Lyttelton, if he would come hither, and turn
freethinker once more, he would be reckoned the most -,agreeable
man in France--next to Mr. Hume, who is the only thing in the
world that they believe implicitly; which they must do, for I
defy them to understand any language that he speaks.
If I could divest myself of my wicked--and unphilosophic bent to
laughing, I should do very well. They are very civil and
obliging to me, and several of the women are very agreeable, and
some of the men. The Duc de Nivernois has been beyond measure
kind to me, and scarce missed a day without coming to see me
during my confinement. The Guerchys are. as usual, all
friendship. I had given entirely into supping, as I do not love
rising early, and still less meat breakfasts. The misfortune is,
that in several houses they dine, and at others sup.
You will think it odd that I should want to laugh, when Wilkes,
Sterne, and Foote are here; but the first does not make me laugh,
the second never could, and for the third, I choose to pay five
shillings when I have a mind he should divert me. Besides, I
certainly did not come in search of English: and yet the man I
have liked the best in Paris is an Englishman, Lord Ossory, who
is one of the most sensible young men I ever saw, with a great
deal of Lord Tavistock in his manner.
The joys of Fontainbleau I miss by my illness--Patienza! If the
gout deprived me of nothing better than a court.
The papers say the Duke of Dorset(902) is dead; what has he done
for Lord George? You cannot be so unconscionable as not to
answer me. I don't ask who is to have his riband; nor how many
bushels of fruit the Duke of Newcastle's dessert for the
Hereditary Prince contained, nor how often he kissed him for the
sake of "the dear house of Brunswick"--No, keep your politics to
yourselves; I want to know none of them:-when I do, and
authentically, I will write to my Lady * * * * or Charles
Townshend.
Mrs. Pit's friend, Madame de Rochefort, is one of my principal
attachments, and very agreeable indeed. Madame de Mirepoix
another. For my admiration, Madame de Monaco--but I believe you
don't doubt my Lord Hertford's taste in sensualities. March's
passion, Marechalle d'Estr`ees, is affected, cross, and not all
handsome. The Princes of the blood are pretty much retired, do
not go to Portsmouth and Salisbury once a week, nor furnish every
other paragraph to the newspapers. Their campaigns are confined
to killing boars and stags, two or three hundred in a year.
Adieu! Mr. Foley is my banker; or it is still more sure if you
send your letter to Mr. Conway's office.
(901) Of the Hoo, in Hertfordshire. See vol. ii. p. 211, letter
103.-E.
(902) Lionel Cranfield Sackville, seventh Earl and first Duke of
Dorset: he died on the 10th of October. Lord George Sackville
was his third son.-E.
Letter 278 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Oct. 28, 1765. (page 440)
Mr. Hume sends me word from Fontainbleau, that your brother, some
time in the spring of 1764, transmitted to the English ministry a
pretty exact and very authentic account of the French finances;"
these are his words: and "that it will be easily found among his
lordship's despatches of that period." To the other question I
have received no answer: I suppose he has not yet been able to
inform himself.
This goes by an English coachman of Count Lauragais, sent over to
buy more horses; therefore I shall write a little ministerially,
and, perhaps, surprise you, if you are not already apprised of
things in the light I see them.
The Dauphin will probably hold out very few days. His death,
that is, the near prospect of it, fills the philosophers with the
greatest joy, as it was feared he would endeavour the restoration
of the Jesuits. You will think the sentiments of the
philosophers very odd stale news --but do you know who the
philosophers are, or what the term means here? In the first
place, it comprehends almost every body; and in the next, means
men, who, avowing war against popery, aim, many of them, at a
subversion of all religion, and still many more, at the
destruction of regal power. How do you know this? you will say;
you, who have been but six weeks in France, three of which you
have been confined to your chamber? True: but in the first period
I went every where, and heard nothing else: in the latter, I have
been extremely visited, and have had long and explicit
conversations with many, who think as I tell you, and with a few
of the other side, who are no less persuaded that there are such
intentions. In particular. I had two officers here t'other
night, neither of them young, whom I had difficulty to keep from
a serious quarrel, and who, in the heat of the dispute, informed
me of much more than I could have learnt with great pains.
As a proof that my ideas are not quite visions, I send you a most
curious paper;(903) such as I believe no magistrate would have
pronounced in the time of Charles 1. I should not like to have it
known to come from me, nor any part of the intelligence I send
you; with regard to which, if you think it necessary to
communicate it to particular persons, I desire my name may be
suppressed. I tell it for your satisfaction and information, but
would not have any body else think that I do any thing here but
amuse myself; my amusements indeed are triste enough, and consist
wholly in trying to get well; but my recovery moves very slowly.
I have not yet had any thing but cloth shoes on, live sometimes a
whole day on warm water, and am never tolerably well till twelve
or one o'clock.
I have had another letter from Sir Horace Mann, who has much at
heart his riband and increase of character. Consequently you
know, as I love him so much, I must have them at heart too.
Count Lorenzi is recalled, because here they think it necessary
to send a Frenchman of higher rank to the new grand ducal court.
I wish Sir Horace could be raised on this occasion. For his
riband, his promise is so old and so positive, that it is quite a
hardship.
Pray put the colonies in good-humour: I see they are violently
Disposed to the new administration. I have not time to say more,
nor more to say if I had time; so good night! Let me know if you
receive this, and how soon: it goes the day after to-morrow.
Various reports say the Duke of Richmond comes this week. I sent
you a letter by Monsieur de Guerchy. Dusson, I hear, goes
ambassador to Poland. Tell Lady Ailesbury that I have five or
six little parcels, though not above one for her, of laces and
ribands, which Lady Cecilic left Wit me: but how to convey them
the Lord knows. Yours ever.
(903) This paper does not appear.
Letter 279 To Mr. Gray.
Paris, Nov. 19, 1765. (page 441)
You are very kind to inquire so particularly after my gout. I
wish I may not be so circumstantial in my answer: but you have
tapped a dangerous topic; I can talk gout by the hour. It is my
great mortification, and has disappointed all the hopes that I
had built on temperance and hardiness. I have resisted like a
hermit, and exposed myself to all weathers and seasons like a
smuggler; and in vain. I have, however, still so much of the
obstinacy of both professions left, that I think I shall
continue, and cannot obey you in keeping myself warm. I have
gone through my second fit under one blanket, and already go
about in a silk waistcoat with my bosom unbuttoned. In short, I
am as prejudiced to try regimen, though so ineffectual, as I
could have been to all I expected from it. The truth is, I am
almost as willing to have the gout as to be liable to catch cold;
and must run up stairs and down, in and out of doors, when I
will, or I cannot have the least satisfaction. This will
convince you how readily I comply with another of your precepts,
walking as soon as am able.--For receipts, you may trust me for
making use of none; I would not see a physician at the worst, but
have quacked as boldly as quacks treat others. I laughed at your
idea of quality receipts, it came so apropos. There is not a man
or woman here that is not a perfect old nurse, and who does not
talk gruel and anatomy with equal fluency and ignorance. One
instance shall serve: Madame de Bouzols, Marshal Berwick's
daughter, assured me there was nothing so good for the gout, as
to preserve the parings of my nails in a bottle close stopped.
When I try any illustrious nostrum, I shall give the preference
to this.
So much for the gout!(904) I told you what was coming. As to
the ministry, I know and care very little about them. I told you
and told them long ago, that if ever a change happened I would
bid adieu to politics for ever. Do me the Justice to allow that
I have not altered with the time. I was so impatient to put this
resolution in execution that I hurried out of England before I
was sufficiently recovered. I shall not run the same hazard again
in haste; but will stay here till I am perfectly well, and the
season of warm weather coming on or arrived; though the charms of
Paris have not the least attraction for me, nor would keep me an
hour on their own account. For the city itself, I cannot
conceive where my eyes were: it Is the ugliest beastliest town in
the universe. I have not seen a mouthful of verdure out of it,
nor have they any thing green but their treillage and
window-shutters. Trees cut into fire-shovels, and stuck into
pedestals of chalk, Compose their country. Their boasted
knowledge of society is reduced to talking of their suppers, and
every malady they have about them, or know of. The Dauphin is at
the point of death; every morning the physicians frame in account
of him; and happy is he or she who can produce a copy of this
lie, called a bulletin. The night before last, one of these was
produced at supper where I was; it was read, and said he had une
evacuation foetide. I beg your pardon, though you are not at
supper. The old lady of the house(905) (who by the way is quite
blind, was the Regent's mistress for a fortnight, and is very
agreeable) called out, "Oh! they have forgot to mention that he
threw down his chamber-pot, and was forced to change his bed."
There were present several women of the first rank; as Madame de
la Vali`ere, whom you remember Duchesse de Vaujour, and who is
still miraculously pretty, though fifty-three; a very handsome
Madame de Forcalquier, and others--nor was this conversation at
all particular to that evening.
Their gaiety is not greater than their delicacy--but I will not
expatiate. In short, they are another people from what they
were. They may be growing wise, but the intermediate passage is
dulness. Several of the women are agreeable, and some of the
men; but the latter are in general vain and ignorant. The
savans--I beg their pardons, the philosophes--are insupportable,
superficial, overbearing, and fanatic: they preach incessantly,
and their avowed doctrine is atheism; you would not believe how
openly--Don't wonder, therefore, if I should return a Jesuit.
Voltaire himself does not satisfy them. One of their lady
devotees said of him, "Il est bigot, c'est un d`eiste."
I am as little pleased with their taste in trifles. Cr`ebillon
is entirely out of fashion, and Marivaux a proverb: marivauder
and marivaudage are established terms for being prolix and
tiresome. I thought that we were fallen, but they are ten times
lower.
Notwithstanding all I have said, I have found two or three
societies that please me; am amused with the novelty of the
whole, and should be sorry not to have come. The Dumenil is, if
possible, superior to what you remember. I am sorry not to see
the Clairon; but several persons whose judgments seem the
soundest prefer the former. Preville is admirable in low comedy.
The mixture of Italian comedy and comic operas, prettily written,
and set to Italian music, at the same theatre, is charming, and
gets the better both of their operas and French comedy; the
latter of which is seldom full, with all its merit.
Petit-maitres are obsolete, like our Lords Foppington--but le
monde est philosophe--When I grow very sick of this last
nonsense, I go and compose myself at the Chartreuse, where I am
almost tempted to prefer Le Soeur to every painter I know. Yet
what new old treasures are come to light, routed out of the
Louvre, and thrown into new lumber-rooms at Versailles!--But I
have not room to tell you what I have seen! I will keep this and
other chapters for Strawberry. Adieu! and thank you.
Old Mariette has shown me a print by Diepenbecke of the Duke and
Duchess of Newcastle(906) at dinner with their family. You would
oblige me, if you would look into all their graces' folios, and
see if it is not a frontispiece to some one of them. Then he has
such a Petitot of Madame d'Olonne! The Pompadour offered him
fifty louis for it(907)--Alack, so would I!
(904) The following is Gray's reply, of the 13th of December:-
-"You have long built your hopes on temperance, you say, and
hardiness. On the first point we are agreed; the second has
totally disappointed you, and therefore you will persist in it by
all means. But then, be sure to persist too in being young, in
stopping the course of time, and making the shadow return back
upon your sun-dial. If you find this not so easy, acquiesce with
a good grace in my anilities; put on your understockings of yarn,
or woollen, even in the night-time. Don't provoke me, or I shall
order you two nightcaps, (which, by the way, would do your eyes
good,) and put a little of any French liqueur into your water;
they are nothing but brandy and sugar; and among their various
flavours, some of them may surely be palatable enough, The pain
in your feet I can bear; but shudder at the sickness of your
stomach and the weakness that still continues. I conjure you, as
you love yourself--I conjure you by Strawberry, not to trifle
with these edge-tools. There is no cure for the gout, when in
the stomach, but to throw it into the limbs; There is no relief
for gout in the limbs, but in gentle warmth and gradual
perspiration." Works, vol. iv. p. 68.-E.
(905) Madame du Deffand.-E.
(906) Prefixed to some copies of the Duchess's work, entitled
"The World's Olio,--Nature's Pictures drawn by Fancy's Pencil to
the life," (folio, London, 1653,) is a print, Diepenbeck, del.,
P. Clouvet sc., half sheet, containing portraits of William
Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, (celebrated as a Cavalier general
during the civil wars, and commonly styled the loyal Duke of
Newcastle,) his Duchess, and their family.-E.
(907) This miniature eventually became his property. In a letter
from madame du Deffand of the 12th of December 1775, she says:-
-"J'ai Madame d'Olonne entre les mains; vous voil`a au comble de
la joie; mais moderez-en la, en apprenant que ses galans ne la
payaient pas plus cher de son vivant que vous ne la payez apr`es
sa mort; (@lle vous coute trois mille deux cents livres."-E.
Letter 280 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Nov. 21, 1765. (page 444)
Madame Geoffrin has given me a parcel for your ladyship with two
knotting-bags, which I will send by the first opportunity that
seems safe:'--but I hear of nothing but difficulties; and shall,
I believe, be saved from ruin myself, from not being able to
convey any purchases into England. Thus I shall have made an
almost fruitless journey to France, if I can neither fling away
my money, nor preserve my health. At present, indeed, the gout
is gone. I have had my house swept, and made as clean as I
could-no very easy matter in this country; but I live in dread of
seven worse spirits entering in. The terror I am under of a new
fit has kept me from almost seeing any thing. The damps and fogs
are full as great and frequent here as in London; but there is a
little frost to-day, and I shall begin my devotions tomorrow. It
is not being fashionable to visit churches: but I am de la
vieille cour; and I beg your ladyship to believe that I have no
youthful pretensions. The Duchess of Richmond tells me that they
have made twenty foolish stories about me in England; and say
that my person is admired here. I cannot help what is said
without foundation; but the French have neither lost their eyes,
nor I my senses. A skeleton I was born--skeleton I am--and death
will have no trouble in making me one. I have not made any
alteration in my dress, and certainly did not study it In
England. Had I had any such ridiculous thoughts, the gout is too
sincere a monitor to leave one under any such error. Pray,
Madam, tell Lord and Lady Holland what I say: they have heard
these idle tales; and they know so many of my follies, that I
should be sorry they believed more of me than are true. If all
arose from madame Geoffrin calling me in Joke le nouveau
Richelieu, I give it under my hand that I resemble him in nothing
but wrinkles.
Your ladyship is much in the right to forbear reading politics.
I never look at the political letters that come hither in the
Chronicles. I was sick to death of them before I set out; and
perhaps should not have stirred from home, if I had not been sick
of them and all they relate to. If any body could write ballads
and epigrams, `a la bonne heure! But dull personal abuse in prose
is tiresome indeed. A serious invective against a pickpocket, or
written by a pickpocket, who has so little to do as to read?
The Dauphin continues languishing to his exit, and keeps every
body at Fontainbleau. There is a little bustle now about the
parliament of Bretagne; but you may believe, Madam, that when I
was tired of the squabbles at London, I did not propose to
interest myself in quarrels at Hull or Liverpool. Indeed, if the
Duc de Chaulnes(908) commanded at Rennes, or Pomenars(909) was
sent to prison, I might have a little curiosity. You wrong me in
thinking I quoted a text from my Saint(910) ludicrously. On the
contrary I am so true a bigot, that if she could have talked
nonsense, I should, like any other bigot, believe she was
inspired.
The season and the emptiness of Paris, prevent any thing new from
appearing. All I can send your ladyship is a very pretty
logogriphe, made by the old blind Madame du Deffand, whom perhaps
you know--certainly must have heard of. I sup there very
often;(911) and she gave me this last night-you must guess it.
Quoique je forme un corps, je ne suis qu'une id`ee;
Plus ma beaut`e vieillit, plus elle est decid`ee:
Il faut, pour me trouver, ignorer d'o`u je viens;
Je tiens tout de lui, qui reduit tout `a rien.(912)
Lady Mary Chabot inquires often after your ladyship. Your other
two friends are not yet returned to Paris; but I have had several
obliging messages from the Duchess d'Aiguillon.
It pleased me extremely, Madam, to find no mention of your own
gout in your letter. I always apprehend it for you, as you try
its temper to the utmost, especially by staying late in the
country, which you know it hates. Lord! it has broken my spirit
so, that I believe it might make me leave Strawberry at a
minute's warning. It has forbidden me tea, and been obeyed; and
I thought that one of the most difficult points to carry with me.
Do let us be well, Madam, and have no gouty notes to compare! I
am your ladyship's most faithful, humble servant.
(908) Governor of Britany in the time of Madame de S`evign`e.
(909) See Madame de S`evign`e's Letters.
(910) Madame de S`evign`e.
(911) Madame du Deffand had, at this time, a supper at her house
every Sunday evening, at which Walpole, during his stay at Paris,
constantly made one of the company.-E.
(912) The word is noblesse.
Letter 281 To George Montagu, Esq.
Paris, Nov. 21, 1765. (page 445)
You must not be surprised when my letters arrive long after their
date. I write them at my leisure, and send them when I find any
Englishman going to London, that I may not be kept in check, if
they were to pass through both French and English posts. Your
letter to Madame Roland, and the books for her, will Set Out very
securely in a day or two. My bookseller here happens to be of
Rheims, and knows Madame Roland, comme deux gouttes d'eau. This
perhaps is not a well-placed simile, but the French always use
one, and when they are once established, and one knows the tune,
it does not signify sixpence for the sense.
My gout and my stick have entirely left me. I totter still, it
is true, but I trust shall be able to whisk about at Strawberry
as well almost as ever. When that hour strikes, to be sure I
shall not be very sorry. The sameness of the life here is worse
than any thing but English politics and the House of Commons.
Indeed, I have a mind still to see more people here, more sights,
and more of the Dumenil. The Dauphin, who is not dead yet,
detains the whole court at Fontainbleau, whither I dare not
venture, as the situation is very damp, and the lodgings
abominable. Sights, too, I have scarce seen any yet; and I must
satisfy my curiosity; for hither, I think, I shall never come
again. No, let us sit down quietly and comfortably, and enjoy
our coming old age. Oh! if you are in earnest, and will
transplant yourself to Roehampton, how happy I shall be! You
know, if you believe an experience of above thirty years, that
you are one of the very, very few, for whom I really care a
straw. You know how long I have been vexed at seeing so little
of you. What has one to do, when one grows tired of the world,
as we both do, but to draw nearer and nearer, and gently waste
the remains of life with the friends with whom one began it!
Young and happy people will have no regard for us and our old
stories, and they are in the right: but we shall not tire one
another; we shall laugh together when nobody is by to laugh at
us, and we may think ourselves young enough when we see nobody
younger. Roehampton is a delightful spot, at once cheerful and
retired. You will amble in your chaise about Richmond-park: we
shall see one another as often as we like; I shall frequently
peep at London, and bring you tales of it, and we shall sometimes
touch a card with the Clive, and laugh our fill; for I must tell
you, I desire to die when I have nobody left to laugh with me. I
have never yet seen or heard any thing serious, that was not
ridiculous. Jesuits, Methodists, philosophers, politicians, the
hypocrite Rousseau, the scoffer Voltaire, the encyclopedists, the
Humes, the Lytteltons, the Grenvilles, the atheist tyrant of
Prussia, and the mountebank of history, Mr. Pitt, all are to me
but impostors in their various ways. Fame or interest is their
object; and after all their parade, I think a ploughman who sows,
reads his almanack, and believes the stars but so many farthing
candles, created to prevent his falling into a ditch as he goes
home at night, a wiser and more rational being, and I am sure an
honester than any of them. Oh! I am sick of visions and systems,
that shove one another aside, and come over again, like the
figures in a moving picture. Rabelais brightens up to me as I
see more of the world; he treated it as it deserved, laughed at
it all, and, as I judge from myself, ceased to hate it; for I
find hatred an unjust preference. Adieu!
Letter 282 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Nov. 28, 1765. (page 447)
What, another letter! Yes, Madam; though I must whip and spur, I
must try to make my thanks keep up with your favours: for any
other return, you have quite distanced me. This is to
acknowledge the receipt of the Duchess d'Aiguillon--you may set
what sum you please against the debt. She is delightful, and has
much the most of a woman of quality of any I have seen, and more
cheerfulness too: for, to show your ladyship that I am sincere,
that my head is not turned, and that I retain some of my
prejudices still, I avow that gaiety, whatever it was formerly,
is no longer the growth of this country, and I will own too that
Paris can produce women of quality that I should not call women
of fashion; I will not use so ungentle a term as vulgar; but from
their indelicacy, I could call it still worse. Yet with these
faults, and the latter is an enormous one in my English eyes,
many of the women are exceedingly agreeable. I cannot say so
much for the men--always excepting the Duc de Nivernois. You
would be entertained, for a quarter of an hour, with his
Duchess--she is the Duke of Newcastle properly placed, that is,
chattering incessantly out of devotion, and making interest
against the devil, that she may dispose of bishoprics in the next
world.
Madame d'Egmont is expected to-day, which will run me again into
arrears. I don't l(now how it is. Yes, I do: it is natural to
impose on bounty, and I am like the rest of the world; I am going
to abuse your goodness because I know nobody's so great. Besides
being the best friend in the world, you are the best
commissionnaire in the world, Madam - you understand from
friendship to scissors. The enclosed model was trusted to me, to
have two pair made as well as possible--but I really blush at my
impertinence. However, all the trouble I mean to give your
ladyship is, to send your groom of the chambers to bespeak them;
and a pair besides of the common size for a lady, as well made as
possible, for the honour of England's steel.
The two knotting-bags from Madame Geoffrin went away by a
clergyman two days ago; and I concerted all the tricks the doctor
and I could think of, to elude the vigilance of the customhouse
officers.
With this, I send your ladyship the Orpheline Legu`ee: its
intended name was the Anglomanie, my only reason for sending it;
for it has little merit, and had as slender success, being acted
but five times. However, there is nothing else new.
The Dauphin continues in the same languishing and hopeless state,
but with great coolness and firmness. Somebody gave him t'other
day "The Preparation for Death:"(913) he said, "C'est la nouvelle
du jour."
I have nothing more to say, but what I have always to say, Madam,
from the beginning of my letters to the end, that I am your
ladyship's most obliged and most devoted humble servant.
Nov. 28, three o'clock.
Oh, Madam, Madam, Madam, what do you think I have found since I
wrote my letter this morning? I am out of my wits! Never was
any thing like my luck; it never forsakes me! I have found Count
Grammont's picture! I believe I shall see company upon it,
certainly keep the day holy. I went to the Grand Augustins to
see the pictures of the reception of' the knights of the Holy
Ghost: they carried me into a chamber full of their portraits; I
was looking for Bassompierre; my laquais de louage opened a door,
and said, "Here are more." One of the first that struck me was
Philibert Comte de Grammont!(914) It is old, not at all
handsome, but has a great deal of finesse in the countenance. I
shall think of nothing now but having it copied. If I had seen
or done nothing else, I should be content with my journey hither.
(913) The title of a French book of devotion.
(914) The witty Count de Grammont, who married Elizabeth,
daughter of Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of James first Earl
of Abercorn, by Mary, third sister of James first Duke of Ormond.
Tradition reports, that Grammont, who is not recorded to have
been a men of personal courage, having attached, if not engaged
himself to Hamilton, went off abruptly for France: the Count
George Hamilton pursued and overtook him at Dover, when he thus
addressed him: "My dear friend, I believe you have forgot a
circumstance that should take place before you return to France."
To which Grammont answered, "True, my dear friend; what a memory
I have! I quite forgot that I was to marry your sister; but I
will instantly accompany you back to London and rectify that
forgetfulness." His celebrated Memoirs were written by his
brother-in-law, Anthony, generally called Count Hamilton, who
followed the fortunes of James the Second, and afterwards entered
the French service.-E.
Letter 283 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Nov. 29, 1765. (page 448)
As I answered your short letter with a very long one, I shall be
shorter in answer to your long, which I received late last night
from Fontainbleau: it is not very necessary: but as Lord William
Gordon sets out for England on Monday, I take that opportunity.
The Duke of' Richmond tells me that Choiseul has promised every
thing. I wish it may be performed, and speedily, as it will give
you an opportunity of opening the Parliament with great `eclat.
My opinion you know is, that this is the moment for pushing them
and obtaining.
Thank you for all you say about my gout. We have had a week of
very hard frost, that has done me great good, and rebraced me.
The swelling of my legs is quite gone. What has done me more
good, is having entirely left off tea, to which I believe the
weakness of my stomach was owing, having had no sickness since.
In short, I think I am cured of every thing but my fears. You
talk coolly of going as far as Naples, and propose my going with
you. I would not go so far, if Naples was the direct road to the
new Jerusalem. I have no thought or wish but to get home, and be
quiet for the rest of my days, which I shall most certainly do
the first moment the season will let me; and if I once get to
London again, shall be scarce tempted ever to lie in an inn more.
I have refused to go to Aubign`e, though I should lie but one
night on the road. You may guess what I have suffered, when I am
grown so timorous about my health, However, I am again reverted
to my system of water, and trying to recover my hardiness--but
nothing has at all softened me towards physicians.
You see I have given you a serious answer, though I am rather
disposed to smile at your proposal. Go to Italy! for what?--Oh!
to quit--do you know, I think that as idle a thought as the
other. Pray stay where you are, and do some good to your
country, or retire when you cannot--but don't put your finger in
your eye and cry after the holidays and sugar-plums of
Park-place. You have engaged and must go through or be hindered.
Could you tell the world the reason? Would not all men say you
had found yourself incapable of what you had undertaken? I have
no patience with your thinking so idly. It would be a reflection
on your understanding and character, and a want of resolution
unworthy of you.
My advice is, to ask for the first great government that falls,
if you will not take your regiment again; to continue acting
vigorously and honestly where you are. Things are never stable
enough in our country to give you a prospect of a long slavery.
Your defect is irresolution. When you have taken your post, act
up to it; and if you are driven from it, your retirement will
then be as Honourable, and more satisfactory than your
administration. I speak frankly, as my friendship for you
directs. My way of acting (though a private instance) is
agreeable to my doctrine. I determined, whenever our opposition
should be over, to have done with politics; and you see I have
adhered to my resolution by coming hither; and therefore you may
be convinced that I speak my thoughts. I don't ask your pardon,
because I should be forced to ask my own, if I did not tell you
what I think the best for you. You have life and Park-place
enough to come, and you have not had five months of gout. Make
yourself independent honourably, which you may do by a
government. but if you will take my advice, don't accept a
ministerial place when you cease to be a minister. The former is
a reward due to your profession and services; the latter is a
degradation. You know the haughtiness of my spirit; I give you
no advice but what I would follow.
I sent Lady Ailesbury the "Orpheline Legu`ee:" a poor
performance; but the subject made me think she would like to see
it. I am over head and ears at Count Caylus's(915) auction, and
have bought half of it for a song--but I am still in greater
felicity and luck, having discovered, by mere accident, a
portrait of Count Grammont, after having been in search of' one
these fifteen years, and assured there was no such thing.
Apropos, I promised you my but besides that there is nobody here
that excels in painting skeletons, seriously, their painters are
bitter bad, and as much inferior to Reynolds and Ramsay, as
Hudson to Vandyck. I had rather stay till my return. Adieu!
(915) The Count de Caylus, member of the Royal Academy of
Inscriptions and Belles-lettre, honorary member of the Royal
Academy of Painting and Sculpture, and author of the "Recueil
d'Antiquit`es Egyptiennes, Etrusques, Grecques, Romaines, et
Gauloises," in seven volumes, 4to., died at Paris in September
1765, in the sixty-third year of his age. He was said to be the
protector of the arts and the torment of the artists; for though
he assisted them with his advice, and, better still, with his
purse, he exacted from them, in return, the greatest deference to
his opinion. Gibbon, in his Journal for May, 1763, thus speaks
of the Count:--"Je le vis trois ou quatre fois, et je vis un
homme simple, uni, bon, et qui me temoignoit une bont`e Extreme.
Si je n'en ai point profits, je l'attribue moins `a son
charact`ere qu'`a son genre de vie. Il se l`eve de grand matin,
court les atteliers des artistes pendant tout le jour, et rentre
chez lui `a six heures du soir pour se mettre en robe de chambre,
et s'enfermer dans son cabinet. Le moyen de voir ses amis?"-E.
Letter 284 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Dec. 5, 1765. (page 450)
I have not above a note's worth to say; but as Lord Ossory sets
out to-morrow, I just send you a line. The Dauphin, if he is
still alive, which some folks doubt, is kept so only by cordials;
though the Bishop of Glandeve has assured the Queen that he had
God's own word for his recovery, which she still believes,
whether her son is dead or not.
The remonstrance of the Parliament of Paris, on the dissolution
of that of Bretagne, is very decent; they are to have an audience
next week. They do not touch on Chalotais, because the
accusation against him is for treason. What do you think that
treason Is? A correspondence with Mr. Pitt, to whom he is made
to say, that "Rennes is nearer to London than Paris." It is now
believed that the anonymous letters, supposed to be written by
Chalotais, were forged by a Jesuit--those to Mr. Pitt could not
have even so good an author.
The Duke of Richmond is still at Aubign`e: I wonder he stays, for
it is the hardest frost alive. Mr. Hume does not go to Ireland;
where your brother finds he would by no means be welcome. I have
a notion he will stay here till Your brother's return.
The Duc de Praslin, it is said, will retire at Christmas. As La
Borde, the great banker of the court, is trying to retire too, my
consul, who is much connected with La Borde, suspects that
Choiseul is not very firm himself. I have supped with Monsieur
de Maurepas, and another night, with Marshal Richelieu: the first
is extremely agreeable and sensible; and, I am glad, not
minister. The other is an old piece of tawdry, worn out, but
endeavouring to brush itself up; and put me in mind of Lord
Chesterfield, for they laugh before they know what he has said--
and are in the right, for I think they would not laugh
afterwards.
I send Lady Ailesbury the words and music of the prettiest opera
comique in the world. I wish I could send her the actors too.
Adieu!
December 9.
Lord Ossory put off his journey; which stopped this letter, and
it will now go by Mr. Andrew Stuart.
The face of things is changed here; which I am impatient to tell
you, that you may see it is truth, not system, which I pique
myself on sending you. The vigour of the court has frightened
the Parliaments. That of Pau has submitted. The procureurs, etc
of Rennes, who, it was said, would not plead before the new
commission, were told, that if they did not plead the next day
they should be hanged without a trial. No bribe ever operated
faster! I heard t'other day, that some Spanish minister, I
forget his name, being dead, Squillace would take his department,
and Grimaldi have that of the West Indies. He is the worst that
could have it, as we have no greater enemy.
The Dauphin is certainly alive, but in the most shocking way
possible; his bones worn through his skin, a great swelling
behind, and so relaxed, that his intestines appear from that
part; and yesterday the mortification was suspected.
I have received a long letter from Lady Ailesbury, for which I
give her a thousand thanks; and would answer it directly, if I
had not told you every thing I know. The Duke and Duchess of
Richmond are, I hear, at Fontainbleau: the moment they return, I
will give the Duchess Lady Ailesbury's commission.
Letter 285 To The Countess Of Suffolk.(916)
Paris, Dec. 5, 1765; but does not set out till the 11th.
(page 451)
Madam,
Miss Hotham need not be in pain for what to say when she gives me
an account of your ladyship; which is all the trouble I thought
of giving her. If she could make those accounts more favourable,
I should be better pleased; but I know what an untractable brute
the gout is, and the joy it takes in plaguing every body that is
connected with it. We have the sharpest frost here that ever
lived; it has done me great good; and, if it has the same effect
on your ladyship, I hope you are starved to death. Since Paris
has begun to fill in spite of Fontainbleau, I am much reconciled
to it, and, have seen several people I like. I am established in
two or three societies, where I sup every night; though I have
still resisted whist, and am more constant to my old flame loo
during its absence than I doubt I have been to my other passion.
There is a young Comtesse d'Egmont, daughter of Marshal
Richelieu, so pretty and pleasing, that, if I thought it would
break any body's heart in England, I would be in love with her.
Nay, Madam, I might be so within all rules here. I am twenty
years the right side of red-heels, which her father wears still,
and he has still a wrinkle to come before he leaves them off.
The Dauphin is still alive, but kept so only by cordials. The
Queen and Dauphiness have no doubt of his recovery, having the
Bishop of Glandeve's word for it, who got a promise from a vision
under its own hand and seal. The Dauphin has certainly behaved
with great courage and tranquillity, but is so touched with the
tenderness and attention of his family, that he now expresses a
wish to live.
If there is no talk in England of politics and parliaments, I can
send your ladyship as much as you please from hence; or If you
want English themselves, I can send you about fifty head; and I
assure you, we shall still be well stocked. There were three
card-tables at Lady Berkeley's.
(916) Now first collected.
Letter 286 To the Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Jan. 2, 1766. (page 452)
When I came to Paris, Madam, I did not know that by New year's--
day I should find myself in Siberia; at least as cold. There
have not been two good days together since the middle of October;
however, I do not complain, as I am both well and pleased, though
I wish for a little of your sultry English weather, all French as
I am. I have entirely left off dinners, and the life I always
liked, of lying late in bed, and sitting up late. I am told of
nothing but how contradictory this is to your ladyship's orders;
but as I shall have dull dinners and triste evenings enough when
I return to England, all your kindness cannot persuade me to
sacrifice my pleasures here, too. Many of my opinions are
fantastic; perhaps this is one, that nothing produces gout like
doing any thing one dislikes. I believe the gouts like a near
relation, always visits one when one has some other plague. Your
ladyship's dependence on the waters of Sunning-hill is, I hope,
better founded; but in the mean time my system is full as
pleasant.
Madame d'Aiguillon's goodness to me does not abate, nor Madame
Geoffrin's. I have seen but little of Madame d'Egmont, who seems
very good, and is universally in esteem. She is now in great
affliction, having lost suddenly Monsieur Pignatelli, the
minister at Parma, whom she bred up, and whom she and her family
had generously destined for her grand-daughter, an immense
heiress. It was very delicate and touching what Madame d'Egmont
said to her daughter-in-law on this occasion:--"Vous voyez, ma
ch`ere, combien j'aime mes enfans d'adoption!" This
daughter-in-law is delightfully pretty, and civil, and gay, and
conversable, though not a regular beauty like Madame de Monaco.
The bitterness of the frost deters me, Madam, from all sights; I
console myself with good company, and still more, with being
absent from bad. Negative as this satisfaction is, it is
incredibly great, to me in a town like this, and to be sure every
day of not meeting one face one hates! I never know a positive
pleasure equal to it.
Your ladyship and Lord Holland shall laugh at me as Much as you
please for by dread of being thought charming; yet I shall not
deny my panic, for surely nothing is so formidable as to have
one's limbs on crutches and one's understanding in
leading-strings. The Prince of Conti laughed at me t'other day
on the same account. I was complaining to the old blind charming
Madame du Deffand, that she preferred Mr. Crawford to me: "What,"
said the Prince, "does not she love you?" "No, Sir," I replied,
"she likes me no better than if she had seen me."
Mr. Hume carries this letter and Rousseau to England.(917) I
wish the former may not repent having engaged with the latter,
who contradicts and quarrels with all mankind, in order to obtain
their admiration. I think both his means and his end below such
a genius. If I had talents like his, I should despise any
suffrage below my own standard, and should blush to owe any part
of my fame to singularities and affectations. But great parts
seem like high towers erected on high mountains, the more
expose(] to every wind, and readier to tumble. Charles Townshend
is blown round the compass; Rousseau insists that the north and
South blow at the same time; and Voltaire demolishes the Bible to
erect fatalism in its stead:--so compatible are the greatest
abilities and greatest absurdities!
Madame d'Aiguillon gave me the enclosed letter for your ladyship.
I wish I had any thing else to send you; but there are no new
books, and the theatres are shut up for the Dauphin's death; who,
I believe, is the greatest loss they have had since Harry 1V.
(917) The Parliament of Paris having issued an arr`et against
Rousseau, on account of his opinions, Mr. Hume was applied to by
a friend in Paris to discover for him a retreat in England,
whither he accompanied him. The plan finally concluded on was,
that he should be comfortably boarded in the mansion of Mr.
Davenport, at Wooton, in the county of Derby; and Mr. Hume, by
his interest with the Government, obtained for him a pension of
one hundred pounds a-year. On his arrival in London, he appeared
in public in his Armenian dress, and excited much general
notice.-E
Letter 287 To John Chute, Esq.
Paris, Jan. 1766. (page 453)
It is in vain, I know, my dear Sir, to scold you, though I have
Such a mind to it--nay, I must. Yes, You that will not lie a
night at Strawberry in autumn for fear of the gout, to stay in
the country till this time, and till you caught it! I know you
will tell me, it did not come till you were two days in town.
Do, and I shall have no more pity for you this if I was your
wife, and had wanted to come to town two months ago.
I am perfectly well, though to be sure Lapland is the torrid zone
in comparison of Paris. We have had such a frost for this
fortnight, that I went nine miles to dine in the country to-day,
in a villa exactly like a green-house, except that there was no
fire but in one room. We were four in a coach, and all our
chinks stopped with furs, and yet all the glasses were frozen.
We dined in a paved hall painted in fresco, with a fountain at
one end; for in this country they live in a perpetual opera, and
persist in being young when they are old, and hot when they are
frozen. At the end of the hall sat shivering three glorious
maccaws, a vast cockatoo, and two poor parroquets, who squalled
like the children in the wood after their nursery-fire! I am
come home, and blowing my billets between every paragraph, but
can scarce move my fingers. However, I must be dressed
presently, and go to the Comtesse de la Marche,(918) who has
appointed nine at night for my audience. It seems a little odd
to us to be presented to a princess of the blood at that hour--
but I told you, there is not a tittle In which our manners
resemble one another; I was presented to her father-in-law the
Prince of Conti last Friday. In the middle of the lev`ee entered
a young woman, too plain I thought to be any thing but his near
relation. I was confirmed in my opinion, by seeing her, after he
had talked to her, go round the circle and do the honours of it.
I asked a gentleman near me if that was the Comtesse de la
Marche? He burst into a violent laughter, and then told me it
was Mademoiselle Auguste, a dancer!--Now, who was in the wrong?
I give you these as samples of many scenes that have amused me,
and which will be charming food at Strawberry. At the same time
that I see all their ridicules, there is a douceur in the society
of the women of fashion that captivates me. I like the way of
life, though not lively; though the men are posts, and apt to be
arrogant, and though there are twenty ingredients wanting to make
the style perfect. I have totally washed my hands of their
savans and Philosophers, and do not even envy you Rousseau, who
has all the charlatanerie of Count St. Germain(919 to make
himself singular and talked of. I suppose Mrs. Montagu, my Lord
Lyttelton, and a certain lady friend of mine, will be in raptures
with him, especially as conducted by Mr. Hume. But, however I
admire his parts, neither he nor any genius I have known has had
common sense enough to balance the impertinence of their
pretensions. They hate priests, but love dearly to have an altar
at their feet; for which reason it is much pleasanter to read
them than to know them. Adieu! my dear Sir!
Jan. 15.
This has been writ this week, and waiting for a conveyance, and
as yet has got none. Favre tells me you are recovered, but you
don't tell me so yourself. I enclose a trifle that I wrote
lately,(920) which got about and has made enormous noise in a
city where they run and cackle after an event, like a parcel of
hens after an accidental husk of a grape. It has made me the
fashion, and made Madame de Boufflers and the Prince of Conti
very angry with me; the former intending to be rapt to the Temple
of Fame by clinging to Rousseau's Armenian robe. I am peevish
that with his parts he should be such a mountebank: but what made
me more peevish was, that after receiving Wilkes with the
greatest civilities, he paid court to Mr. Hume by complaining of
Wilkes's visit and intrusion.(921) Upon the whole, I would not
but have come hither; for, since I am doomed to live in England,
it is some comfort to have seen that the French are ten times
more contemptible than we are. I am a little ungrateful; but I
cannot help seeing with my eyes, though I find other people make
nothing of seeing without theirs. I have endless histories to
amuse you with when we meet, which shall be at the end of March.
It is much more tiresome to be fashionable than unpopular; I am
used to the latter, and know how to behave under it: but I cannot
stand for member of parliament of Paris. Adieu!
(918) La Comtesse de la Marche, princess of Modena, married to
the only son of the Prince de Conti. Le Comte de la Marche was
the only one of the princes of the blood who uniformly sided with
the court in the disputes with the Parliament of Paris.-E.
(919) The Comte de St. Germain had acquired a considerable
military reputation in France by his conduct at Corbach in 1760;
when he commanded the reserve, and saved the army by supporting
the rear-guard and allowing the whole body to retire upon Cassel.
Considering himself ill-used by the Marshal de Broglio, his
commander-in-chief, he obtained leave to retire from the French
service, and entered that of Denmark, from which he retired into
private life in 1774. From this retirement he was summoned by
Louis XVI. upon the death of the Comte de Muy,
minister-at-war.-E.
(920) The letter from the King of Prussia to Rousseau.-E.
(921) "One evening, at the Mitre, Johnson said sarcastically to
me, 'It seems, Sir, you have kept very good company abroad--
Rousseau and Wilkes!' I answered with a smile, 'My dear Sir, you
don't call Rousseau bad company: do you r(@ally think him a f bad
man?' Johnson. 'Sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, I
don't talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one
of the worst of men; a rascal, who ought to be hunted out of
society, as he has been. Three or four nations have expelled
him, and it is a shame that he is protected in this country.
Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence
for his transportation than that of any felon who has gone from
the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him
work in the plantations.' " Boswell, vol. ii. p. 314, ed.
1835.-E.
Letter 288 To George Montagu, Esq.
Paris, Jan. 5, 1766. (page 455)
Lady beaulieu acts like herself, and so do you in being persuaded
that nobody will feel any satisfaction that comes to you with
more transport than I do; you deserve her friendship, because you
are more sensible to the grace of the action than to the thing
itself; of which, besides approving the sentiment, I am glad, for
if my Lady Cardigan(922) is as happy in drawing a straw, as in
picking straws, you will certainly miss your green coat. Yet
methinks you would make an excellent Robin Hood reform`e, with
little John your brother. How you would carol Mr. Percy's old
ballads under the greenwood tree! I had rather have you in my
merry Sherwood than at Greatworth, and should delight in your
picture drawn as a bold forester, in a green frock, with your
rosy hue, gray locks, and comely belly. In short, the favour
itself, and the manner are so agreeable, that I shall be at least
as much disappointed as you can be, if it fails. One is not
ashamed to wear a feather from the hand of a friend. We both
scorn to ask or accept boons; but it is pleasing to have life
painted with images by the pencil of friendship. Visions you
know have always been my pasture; and so far from growing old
enough to quarrel with their emptiness, I almost think there is
no wisdom comparable to that of exchanging what is called the
realities of life for dreams. Old castles, old pictures, old
histories, and the babble of old people, make one live back into
centuries, that cannot disappoint one. One holds fast and surely
what is past. The dead have exhausted their power of deceiving;
one can trust Catherine of Medicis now. In short, you have
opened a new landscape to my fancy; and my Lady Beaulieu will
oblige me as much as you, if she puts the long bow into your
hands. I don't know but the idea may produce some other Castle
of Otranto.
The victorious arms of the present ministry in Parliament will
make me protract my stay here, lest it should be thought I
awaited the decision of the event; next to successful enemies, I
dread triumphant friends. To be sure, Lord Temple and George
Grenville are very proper to be tied to a conqueror's car, and to
drag then, slow lengths along;" but it is too ridiculous to see
Goody Newcastle exulting like old Marius in a seventh consulship.
Don't tell it, but as far as I can calculate my own intention, I
shall not set out before the twenty-fifth of March. That will
meet your abode in London; and I shall get a day or two out of
you for some chat at Strawberry on all I have seen and done here.
For this reason I will anticipate nothing now, but bid you
good-morrow, after telling you a little story. The canton of
Berne ordered all the impressions of Helvetius's Esprit and
Voltaire's Pucelle to be seized. The officer of justice employed
by them came into the council and said, "Magnifiques seigneurs,
apr`es toutes les recherches possibles, on n'a p`u trouver dans
toute la ville que tr`es peu de l'Esprit, et pas une Pucelle."
Adieu! Robin and John.
January 9th.
I had not sent away my letter, being so disappointed of a
messenger, and now receive yours of December the thirtieth. My
house is most heartily at your service, and I shall write to
Favre to have it ready for You. You will see by the former part
of this letter, that I do not think of being in England before
the end of March. All I dislike in this contract is the fear,
that if I drive you out of my house, I shall drive you out of
town; and as you will find, I have not a bed to offer you but my
own, and Favre's, in which your servant will lie, for I have
stripped Arlington-street to furnish Strawberry. In the mean
time you will be comfortable in my bed, and need have no trouble
about Favre, as he lodges at his wife's while I am absent. Let
them know in time to have the beds aired.
I don't understand one syllable of your paragraph about Miss
Talbot, Admiral Cornish, and Mr. Hampden's son. I thought she
was married, and I forget to whom.
(922) Lady Mary Montagu, third daughter and coheiress of John
second Duke of Montagu, and last of that creation; married, 7th
July 1730, George Montagu, fourth Earl of Cardigan.-E.
Letter 289 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Saturday night, Jan. 11, 1766. (page 457)
I have just now, Madam, received the scissors, by General Vernon,
from Mr. Conway's office. Unluckily, I had not received your
ladyship's notification of them sooner, for want of a conveyance,
and I wrote to my servant to inquire of yours how they had been
sent; which I fear may have added a little trouble to all you had
been so good as to take, and for which I give you ten thousand
thanks: but your ladyship is so exact and friendly, that it
almost discourages rather than encourages me. I cannot bring
myself to think that ten thousand obligations are new letters of
credit. I have -seen Mrs. F *****, and her husband may be as
happy as he will: I cannot help pitying him. She told me it is
coulder here than in England; and in truth I believe so: I blow
the fire between every paragraph, and am quite cut off from all
sights. The agreeableness of the evenings makes me some amends.
I am just going to sup at Madame d'Aiguillon's with Madame
d'Egmont, and I hope Madame de Brionne, whom I have not yet seen;
but she is not very well, and it is doubtful. My last new
passion, and I think the strongest, is the Duchesse de Choiseul.
Her face is pretty, not very pretty; her person a little model.
Cheerful, modest, full of attentions, with the happiest propriety
of expression, and greatest quickness of reason and judgment, you
would take her for the queen of an allegory: one dreads its
finishing, as much as a lover, if she would admit one, would wish
it should finish. In short, Madam, though you are the last
person that will believe it, France is so agreeable, and England
so much the reverse, that I don't know when I shall return. The
civilities, the kindnesses, the honours I receive, are so many
and so great, that I am continually forced to put myself in mind
how little I am entitled to them, and how many of them I owe to
your ladyship. I shall talk you to death at my return. Shall
you bear to hear me tell you a thousand times over, that Madame
Geoffrin is the most rational woman in the world, and Madame
d'Aiguillon the most animated and most obliging? I think you
will. Your ladyship can endure the panegyric of your friends.
If you should grow impatient to hear them commended, you have
nothing to do but to come over. The best air in the world is
that where one is pleased: Sunning waters are nothing to it. The
frost is so hard, it is impossible to have the gout; and though
the fountain of youth is not here, the fountain of age is, which
comes to just the same thing. One is never old here, or never
thought so. One makes verses as if one was but seventccn-for
example:-