Books: The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

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(863) Lady Anne Seymour Conway, afterwards married to the Earl of
Drogheda.-E.

Letter 268 To the Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Paris, Sept. 14, 1765. (page 423)

I am but two days old here, Madam, and I doubt I wish I was
really so, and had my life to begin, to live it here. You see
how just I am, and ready to make amende honorable to your
ladyship. Yet I have seen very little. My Lady Hertford has cut
me to pieces, and thrown me into a caldron with tailors,
periwig-makers, snuff-box-wrights, milliners, etc. which really
took up but little time; and I am come out quite new, with every
thing but youth. The journey recovered me with magic expedition.
My strength, if mine could ever be called strength, is returned;
and the gout going off in a minuet step. I will say nothing of
my spirits, which are indecently juvenile, and not less improper
for my age than for the country where I am; which, if you will
give me leave to say it, has a thought too much gravity. I don't
venture to laugh Or talk nonsense, but in English.

Madame Geoffrin came to town but last night, and is not visible
on Sundays; but I hope to deliver your ladyship's letter and
packet to-morrow. Mesdames d'Aiguillon, d'Egmont, and Chabot,
and the Duc de Nivernois are all in the country. Madame de
Bouttlers is at l'Isle Adam, whither my Lady Hertford is gone
to-night to sup, for the first time, being no longer chained down
to the incivility of an ambassadress. She returns after supper;
an irregularity that frightens me, who have not got rid of all my
barbarisms. There is one, alas! I never shall get over--the dirt
of this country: it is melancholy, after the purity of
Strawberry! The narrowness of the streets, trees clipped to
resemble brooms, and planted on pedestals of chalk, and a few
other points, do not edify me. The French Opera, which I have
heard to-night, disgusted me as much as ever; and the more for
being followed by the Devin de Village, which shows that they can
sing without cracking the drum of one's ear. The scenes and
dances are delightful; the Italian comedy charming. Then I am in
love with treillage and fountains, and will prove it at
Strawberry. Chantilly is so exactly what it was when I saw it
above twenty years ago, that I recollected the very position of
Monsieur le Duc's chair and the gallery. The latter gave me the
first idea of mine; but, presumption apart, mine is a thousand
times prettier. I gave my Lord Herbert's compliments to the
statue of his friend the Constable -,(864) and, waiting some time
for the concierge, I called out, O`u est Vatel?(865)

In short, Madam, being as tired as one can be of one's own
country,--I don't say whether that is much or little,--I find
myself wonderfully disposed to like this. Indeed I wish I Could
wash it. Madame de Guerchy is all goodness to me; but that is
not new. I have already been prevented by great civilities from
Madame de Bentheim and my old friend Madame de Mirepoix; but am
not likely to see the latter much, who is grown a most particular
favourite of the King, and seldom from him. The Dauphin is ill,
and thought in a very bad way. I hope he will live, lest the
theatres should be shut up. Your ladyship knows I never trouble
my head about royalties, farther than it affects my own interest.
In truth, the way that princes affect my interest is not the
common way.

I have not yet tapped the chapter of baubles, being desirous of
making my revenues maintain me here as long as possible, It will
be time enough to return to my Parliament when I want money.

Mr. Hume that is the Mode,(866) asked much about your ladyship.
I have seen Madame de Monaco(867) and think her very handsome,
and extremely pleasing. The younger Madame d'Egmont,(868) I
hear, disputes the palm with her: and Madame de Brionne(869) is
not left without partisans. The nymphs of the theatres are
laides `a faire peur which at my age is a piece of luck, like
going into a shop of curiosities, and finding nothing to tempt
one to throw away one's money.

There are several English here, whether I will or not. I
certainly did not come for them, and shall connect with them as
little as possible. The few I value, I hope sometimes to hear
of. Your ladyship guesses how far that wish extends. Consider
too, Madam, that one of my unworthinesses is washed and done
away, by the confession I made in the beginning of my letter.

(864) The Constable de Montmorency.-E.

(865) The ma`itre-d'h`otel, who, during the visit which Louis
XIV. made to the grand Cond`e at Chantilly, put an end to his
existence, because he feared the sea-fish would not arrive in
time for one day's repast.

(866) "Hume's conversation to strangers," says Lord Charlemont,
"and still more particularly, one would suppose, to French women,
could be little delightful; and yet no lady's toilette was
complete without his attendance. At the Opera, his broad,
unmeaning face was usually seen entre deux jolis minois: the
ladies in France gave the ton, and the ton was deism."-E.

(867) Madame de Monaco, afterwards Princess de Cond`e.-E.

(868) Daughter of the celebrated Marshal Duc de Richelieu. See
vol. iii. p. 358, letter 233, note 710. She was one of the
handsomest women in France.-E.

(869) Madame de Brionne, n`ee Rohan Rochefort, wife of M. de
Brionne of the house of Lorraine, and mother of the Prince de
Lambesc; known by his imprudent conduct at the head of his
regiment in the garden of the Tuileries, at the commencement of
the revolution.-E.

Letter 269 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Paris, Wednesday, Sept. 18, 1765. (page 424)

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!