Soft sounds that steal from fair Forcalquier's lips,
Like bee that murmuring the jasmin sips!
Are these my native accents? None so sweet,
So gracious, yet my ravish'd ears did meet.
O power of beauty! thy enchanting look
Can melodize each note in Nature's book.
The roughest wrath of Russians, when they swear,
Pronounced by thee, flows soft as Indian air;
And dulcet breath, attemper'd by thine eyes,
Gives British prose o'er Tuscan verse the prize.
You must not look, Madam, for much meaning in these lines; they
were intended only to run smoothly, and to be easily comprehended
by the fair scholar who is learning our language. Still less
must you show them: they are not calculated for the meridian of
London, where you know I dread being represented as a shepherd.
Pray let them think that I am wrapped up in Canada bills, and
have all the pamphlets sent over about the colonies and the
stamp-act.
I am very sorry for the accounts your ladyship gives me of Lord
Holland. He talks, I am told, of going to Naples: one would do a
great deal for health, but I question if I could buy it at that
expense. If Paris would answer his purpose, I should not wonder
if he came hither; but to live with Italians must be woful, and
would ipso facto make me ill. It is true I am a bad judge: I
never tasted illness but the gout, which, tormenting as it is, I
prefer to all other distempers: one knows the fit will end, will
leave one quite well, and dispenses with the nonsense of
physicians, and absurdity is more painful than pain: at least the
pain of the gout never takes away my spirits, which the other
does.
I have never heard from Mr. Chute this century, but am glad the
gout is rather his excuse than the cause, and that it lies only
in his pen. I am in too good humour to quarrel with any body,
and consequently cannot be in haste to see England, where at
least one is sure of being quarrelled with. If they vex me, I
will come back hither directly; and I shall have the satisfaction
of knowing that your ladyship will not blame me.
Letter 290 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Jan. 12, 1766. (page 458)
I have received your letter by General Vernon, and another. to
which I have writ an answer, but was disappointed of a conveyance
I expected. You shall have it with additions, by the first
messenger that goes; but I cannot send it by the post, as I have
spoken very freely of some persons you name, in which we agree
thoroughly. These few lines are only to tell you that I am not
idle in writing to you.
I almost repent having come hither: for I like the way of life
and many of the people so well, that I doubt I shall feel more
regret at leaving Paris than I expected. It would sound vain to
tell you the honours and distinctions I receive, and how much I
am in fashion; yet when they come from the handsomest women in
France, and the most respectable in point of character, can one
help being a little proud? If I was twenty years younger, I
should wish they were not quite so respectable. Madame de
Brionne, whom I have never seen, and who was to have met me at
supper last night at the charming Madame d'Egmont's, sent me an
invitation by the latter for Wednesday next. I was engaged, and
hesitated. I was told, "Comment! savez-vous que c'est qu'elle
ne feroit pas pour toute la France?" However, lest you should
dread my returning a perfect old swain, I study my wrinkles,
compare myself and my limbs to every plate of larks I see, and
treat my understanding with at least as little mercy. Yet, do
you know, my present fame is owing to a very trifling
composition, but which has made incredible noise. I was one
evening at Madame Geoffrin's joking on Rousseau's affectations
and contradictions, and said some things that diverted them.
When I came home, I Put them into a letter, and showed it next
day to Helvetius and the Duc de Nivernois-, who were so pleased
with it, that, after telling me some faults in the language,
which you may be sure there were, they encouraged me to let it be
seen. As you know I willingly laugh at mountebanks, political or
literary, let their talents be ever so great, I was not averse.
The copies have spread like wildfire; et me voici `a la mode! I
expect the end of my reign at the end of the week with great
composure. Here is the letter:--