Nov. 21.—Saw Les Ménechmes, and Crispin Rival de son Maître. In Les Ménechmes the hero turns off as a jest a written promise of marriage, for which it appears he had received a valuable consideration. This dishonourable action would not be tolerated in England. In Crispin the dishonesty of a servant who gives proof of ingenious and hardened roguery, is not only forgiven, but his master promises to try him again in the same situation.
Nov. 22.—Les Horaces is perhaps the chef-d’œuvre of Cimarosa. The music is worthy of the subject. Catalani, whose want of feminine softness always leaves something to be desired in a woman’s part, was a charming young Roman, uniting the soldier and the lover with admirable grace. In the first part of the piece, where spirit, love, and happiness were to be exprest, she was delightful; it was all sunshine trembling and glittering through roses, or fountains sparkling and playing in the beams of the moon. Curiatius advances like the spirit of happiness to receive the vows of his bride. The sacred flames are kindled, the priests pronounce the nuptial benediction, the bride has permitted her veil to be withdrawn, their hands advance to join, when the three Horatii, similar in dress, appearance, and expression, enter, like the Fates, and interrupt the rites, never to be renewed. Their number, their resemblance to one another, gives to their appearance somewhat supernatural and imposing. One trembles at the expression of one will in these three human forms, whom one cannot distinguish from each other. One loses all hope of softening by prayer those who seem divested of individuality. From this fatal moment all is tragic; and, finally, we see these victims to their patriotism go out to a combat which leaves no hope for the victors or the vanquished. The piece closes at this awful period. The sacrifice is consummated; Rome or Alba may be saved, but the happiness of those for whom our interest has been strongly excited, is for ever gone. I know no piece more animated, interesting, noble, and energetic. Touching it would surely be, in the hands of those who know how to strike the chords of the pathetic; but here Catalani’s genius forsakes her; she commands admiration and smiles, but never excites a tear. She is, therefore, much finer in the first part of this opera than in the second.
Nov. 30.—When an Englishwoman enters a milliner’s shop, every individual flies at her, like birds of prey on a tame dove. In the highest of these magazins a beau garçon is always to be found, who gives the cap its last arrangement when tried on, and decides on its being extremely becoming. He is an amphibious being, dressed in an effeminate and highly ornamented manner, who ‘now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.’ One of these creatures took the liberty of asking an English lady to let him see the English corset she wore that day, as they were always so becomingly made about la gorge. The presence of these supernumeraries prodigiously inflames a bill, on which Lady C. said she never went to shops where they are to be found, as ‘she had no idea of paying for the sight of a man.’
Talleyrand says of the Duke of Richelieu, his successor as prime minister, ‘He is well bred, well conducted, and no man in France knows so much—of the Crimea.’
TO CHARLES MANNERS ST. GEORGE, ESQ.,
FRANKFORT.
Paris, Dec. 2, 1815.
Your letter from Chalons was kind and seasonable, for it arrived on a day when I was very ill and very low. If I had not seen you well and happy, I should very much regret my visit to Paris, for, being unprovided with proper letters of introduction, and confined by my cold, I have had no pleasures of society, and we are so much embarrassed at this moment by failure of rents, that even the trifling sum which it will cost is a matter of some inconvenience. I shall regret nothing but the dancing-master, by far the best that I ever saw, and I have observed the art with some attention. When I announced to him that —— could take no more lessons from him, as we were on the point of leaving Paris, he looked at him with commiseration, lifted up his hands and eyes, and exclaiming, C’est un enfant perdu! hurried away.
I see the Diet at Frankfort is thickening. Pray present my compliments to Prince Hardenberg, whom I had the pleasure of knowing at Berlin in 1801; and if you ascertain that his wife is living, inquire for her in my name. Three of the persons whom I most esteemed and loved amongst those whose acquaintance I made in that well-remembered tour, are no more, Mad. de Büssche, Mad. de Walmöden, and Mad. de la Gardie. If you ever see any of their near relations, recall me to their remembrance. Sometimes I regret being forgotten and out of remembrance, and almost extinct as to all the purposes of social life, except within my own family circle; and at other times I say to myself, that sphere ought to content a woman. So it ought, but you, I know, will rejoice in seeing I have momentary aspirations after the living world, and am not always imbarked and rooted in my geraniums and myrtles.