Paris, Jan., 1806.
No woman dined at the Baroness’s but Mrs. ——, a banker’s wife, brimful of all sorts of vanity, but all easily ranged under three general heads—vanity of wealth, of extensive acquaintance, of accomplishments. She asked the Baroness and me to go home with her to a rehearsal of dancing, and I was obliged to go, as the Baroness would not leave me, and was visibly anxious not to lose the party. The rehearsal was dull, as the dancers were mediocre. The dancing-master attended, and it was exactly an academy. Mrs. —— told me she had had but seven lessons, and forgot she had told me a few months ago she had had but ten; so they go diminuendo. She also told me that she took particular pains when at Hamburg, ‘not to be more elegant than other people;’ and if you saw the little woman you would say she might have spared herself so very unnecessary an exertion.
I hear every one is reading Alphonsine. A lady, speaking of the author’s introducing un enfant de l’amour into all her novels, remarked, ‘Il n’y a rien de naturel dans les romans de Mad. de Genlis que les enfans.’
TO THE SAME.
Paris, Jan., 1806.
This morning I went with Mrs. —— to the Gallery. She is the same obliging creature as ever, and always ready to go anywhere. We had a sensible white-eyed German Minister, from some little Court, who took care of us, and knew enough to point out the most remarkable amongst the new paintings. Les Pestiférés is, I believe, fine in grouping and colouring; at least it looks very distingué amongst the figures like waxen images or scenes from the opera, without ensemble, expression, or truth, which form the greater part of the new Exhibition of historical painting. We hurried so much, as one always does the first time, that nothing struck me but Les Pestiférés, and a very pretty drawing by Isabey, in black and white, of the Emperor and Empress visiting the manufactory de Bazin, and some beautiful little highly-finished paintings that remind one of the Dutch pieces in point of nicety, and of Wright of Derby in the choice of subjects and the effects of perspective. I am not in the least ashamed of talking to you on subjects I know nothing about. I know that if by chance I make a lucky hit, you will give me credit for it; and that if I am guilty of the greatest error, you will not like me less; so I have a possibility of winning, and cannot lose.