Paris, June 6, 1795.
I had ſcarcely concluded my laſt, when I received advice of the death of Madame de la F————; and though I have, almoſt from the time we quitted the Providence, thought ſhe was declining, and that ſuch an event was probable, it has, nevertheleſs, both ſhocked and grieved me.
Excluſively of her many good and engaging qualities, which were reaſonable objects of attachment, Madame de la F———— was endeared to me by thoſe habits of intimacy that often ſupply the want of merit, and make us adhere to our early friendſhips, even when not ſanctioned by our maturer judgment. Madame de la F———— never became entirely diveſted of the effects of a convent education; but if ſhe retained a love of trifling amuſements, and a ſort of infantine gaiety, ſhe likewiſe continued pious, charitable, and ſtrictly attentive not only to the duties, but to the decorum, eſſential in the female character and meritſ of this ſort are, I believe, now more rare than thoſe in which ſhe might be deemed deficient.
I was ſpeaking of her this morning to a lady of our acquaintance, who acquieſced in my friendly eulogiums, but added, in a tone of ſuperiority, "C'etoit pourtant une petite femme bien minutieuſe—ſhe always put me out of patience with her birds and her flowers, her levees of poor people, and her perſevering induſtry in frivolous projects." My friend was, indeed, the moſt feminine creature in the world, and this is a flippant literary lady, who talks in raptures of the Greeks and Romans, calls Rouſſeau familiarly Jean Jaques, friſks through the whole circle of ſcience at the Lyceum, and has an utter contempt both for perſonal neatneſs and domeſtic oeconomy. How would Madame de Sevigne wonder, could ſhe behold one of theſe modern belles eſprits, with which her country, as well as England, abounds? In our zeal for reforming the irregular orthography and houſewifely penmanſhip of the laſt century, we are all become readers, and authors, and critics. I do not aſſert, that the female mind is too much cultivated, but that it is too generally ſo; and that we encourage a taſte for attainments not always compatible with the duties and occupations of domeſtic life. No age has, I believe, produced ſo many literary ladies as the preſent;* yet I cannot learn that we are at all improved in morals, or that domeſtic happineſs is more univerſal than when, inſtead of writing ſonnets to dew-drops or daiſies,** we copied prayers and recipes, in ſpelling ſimilar to that of Stowe or Hollingſhed.
* Let me not be ſuppoſed to undervalue the female authors of the preſent day. There are ſome who, uniting great talents with perſonal worth, are juſtly entitled to our reſpect and admiration. The authoreſs of "Cecilia," or the Miſs Lees, cannot be confounded with the proprietors of all the Caſtles, Foreſts, Groves, Woods, Cottages, and Caverns, which are ſo alluring in the catalogue of a circulating library. ** Mrs. Smith's beautiful Sonnets have produced ſonnetteers for every object in nature, viſible or inviſible; and her elegant tranſlations of Petrarch have procured the Italian bard many an Engliſh dreſs that he would have been aſhamed to appear in.
—We ſeem induſtrious to make every branch of education a vehicle for inſpiring a premature taſte for literary amuſements; and our old faſhioned moral adages in writing-books are replaced by ſcraps from "Elegant Extracts," while print-work and embroidery repreſent ſcenes from poems or novels. I allow, that the ſubjects formerly pourtrayed by the needle were not pictoreſque, yet, the tendency conſidered, young ladieſ might as well employ their ſilk or pencils in exhibiting Daniel in the lionſ' den, or Joſeph and his brethren, as Sterne's Maria, or Charlotte and Werter.
You will forgive this digreſſion, which I have been led into on hearing the character of Madame de la F———— depreciated, becauſe ſhe was only gentle and amiable, and did not read Plutarch, nor hold literary aſſemblies. It is, in truth, a little amende I owe her memory, for I may myſelf have ſometimes eſtimated her too lightly, and concluded my own purſuits more rational than hers, when poſſibly they were only different. Her death has left an impreſſion on my mind, which the turbulence of Paris is not calculated to ſoothe; but the ſhort time we have to ſtay, and the number of people I muſt ſee, oblige me to conquer both my regret and my indolence, and to paſs a great part of the day in running from place to place.
I have been employed all this morning in executing ſome female commiſſions, which, of courſe, led me to milliners, mantua-makers, &c. Theſe people now recommend faſhions by ſaying one thing is invented by Tallien's wife, and another by Merlin de Thionville, or ſome other Deputy's miſtreſs; and the genius of theſe elegantes has contrived, by a mode of dreſſing the hair which lengthens the neck, and by robes with an inch of waiſt, to give their countrywomen an appearance not much unlike that of a Bar Gander.
I ſaw yeſterday a relation of Madame de la F————, who is in the army, and whom I formerly mentioned as having met when we paſſed through Dourlens. He was for ſome months ſuſpended, and in confinement, but iſ now reſtored to his rank, and ordered on ſervice. He aſked me if I ever intended to viſit France again. I told him I had ſo little reaſon to be ſatiſfied with my treatment, that I did not imagine I ſhould.—"Yes, (returned he,) but if the republic ſhould conquer Italy, and bring all its treaſures to Paris, as has lately been ſuggeſted in the Convention, we ſhall tempt you to return, in ſpite of yourſelf."*
*The project of pillaging Italy of its moſt valuable works of art was ſuggeſted by the philoſophic Abbe Gregoire, a conſtitutional Biſhop, as early as September 1794, becauſe, as he alledged, the chefs d'ouvres of the Greek republic ought not to embelliſh a country of ſlaves.
—I told him, I neither doubted their intending ſuch a ſcheme, nor the poſſibility of its ſucceſs, though it was not altogether worthy of philoſophers and republicans to wage war for Venuſ's and Appollos, and to ſacrifice the lives of one part of their fellow-citizens, that the reſt might be amuſed with pictures and ſtatues.—"That's not our affair (ſayſ Monſieur de ————). Soldiers do not reaſon. And if the Convention ſhould have a fancy to pillage the Emperor of China's palace, I ſee no remedy but to ſet ſail with the firſt fair wind,"—"I wiſh, (ſaid hiſ ſiſter, who was the only perſon preſent,) inſtead of being under ſuch orders, you had eſcaped from the ſervice." "Yes, (returned the General quickly,) and wander about Europe like Dumouriez, ſuſpected and deſpiſed by all parties." I obſerved, Dumouriez was an adventurer, and that on many accounts it was neceſſary to guard againſt him. He ſaid, he did not diſpute the neceſſity or even the juſtice of the conduct obſerved towardſ him, but that nevertheleſs I might be aſſured it had operated as an effectual check to thoſe who might, otherwiſe, have been tempted to follow Dumouriez's example; "And we have now (added he, in a tone between gaiety and deſpair,) no alternative but obedience or the guillotine."—I have tranſcribed the ſubſtance of this converſation, as it confirms what I have frequently been told, that the fate of Dumouriez, however merited, is one great cauſe why no deſertion of importance has ſince taken place.
I was juſt now interrupted by a noiſe and ſhouting near my window, and could plainly diſtinguiſh the words Scipio and Solon uttered in a tone of taunt and reproach. Not immediately comprehending how Solon or Scipio could be introduced in a fray at Paris, I diſpatched Angelique to make enquiry; and at her return I learned that a croud of boys were following a ſhoemaker of the neighbourhood, who, while he was member of a revolutionary Committee, had choſen to unite in his perſon the glories of both Rome and Greece, of the ſword and gown, and had taken unto himſelf the name of Scipio Solon. A decree of the Convention ſome weeks ſince enjoined all ſuch heroes and ſages to reſume their original appellations, and forbade any perſon, however ardent his patriotiſm, to diſtinguiſh himſelf by the name of Brutus, Timoleon, or any other but that which he derived from his Chriſtian parents. The people, it ſeems, are not ſo obedient to the decree as thoſe whom it more immediately concerns; and aſ the above-mentioned Scipio Solon had been detected in various larcenies, he is not allowed to quit his ſhop without being reproached with hiſ thefts, and his Greek and Roman appellations.
—I am, &c.