TO THE SAME.
Paris, Feb., 1806.
I had rather a pleasantish day at the Baroness’s. Mad. de Richelieu is a very pleasing old dame de l’ancienne cour. There were some others of her society, and they all showed me that sort of politeness which, when thoroughly ground into the manners, bears the semblance of interest and preference. I met also a gentleman who lodges in the house, and whose servant ran up to him on the day of my arrival, to announce it, telling him I was la veuve d’un Général tué à la bataille d’Austerlitz. So because I was not sémillante, but dressed en couleurs tendres, I must be described as a Melpomene.
Think of my having given a breakfast to-day. My company were the F——’s, who expressed a wish to hear Tarchi, and who, according to the custom of the world, attended more to their veal cutlets and their chat, than to us, to Tarchi’s evident displeasure. She had thought of learning from him, and as she is a tolerable musician, with a harsh voice, he might have made something of her; but the twelve francs she could not submit to, and takes Blanquini at six, who will teach her nothing. So much for economy. You may see I have nothing to say on the grand point, by beginning with these frivolités. I called again on the bella Italiana, who did not return my former visit, but I swallow couleuvres now. I send you a note, a volunteer from my Irishman. You see by his writing apropos of nothing, he seems to take a certain interest in our business. Fred is gros et gras and florid; and admired, as whatsoever deserves to be so always is in a great town, where pretensions do not come so close as elsewhere. The unaffected admiration the F——s show of him gives me continual pleasure. Both the ladies nurse him, literally nurse him, for half an hour together. He thinks Mrs. F.’s violent manner and clamorous talk is to amuse him, and when she is engaged in general conversation he coos at her with evident acknowledgment.
TO THE SAME.
Paris, Feb., 1806.
The Emperor was last night at the Théâtre François, where the applause was very moderate. It is said he goes to the opera to-morrow, notwithstanding which scarce a third of the boxes are taken. The ladies of Paris are a little mortified that the few balls and fêtes of this winter are interrupted by his arrival, instead of receiving fresh vigour, as was expected. He has announced his desire that all the great ones intended for him should be put off till May; and the small ones, no one knows why, have felt a sort of contre-coup. Mad. Duboyne’s, however, took place last night; but it made so much sensation as proved that a ball was a scarce thing. How different from London, where half a dozen East Indians might give one the same night, and out of their own circle no one know a word about it. I do not wonder the class of women who place their happiness in show and entertainments, and whose rank and fortune do not allow them to briller in that way in London, are very anxious to settle here. I think it fortunate for England that it is not known how easy it is; and that the respect for the elegance and manners of Paris awes a London citizen’s wife, or we should have a rebellion amongst them against their husbands, who would be brought over here to perish of ennui, like poor Cope.
Poor Fred is here, ‘wasting his beauty on the desert air;’ for I know no one who receives morning visits. I proposed bringing him to show to one lady; but she seems to think a woman, who had been established once before, having taken a husband since her daughter came out, is the most odious of all monopolies, forestalling and regrating; and, though unaccountably civil in other things, she threw cold water on the offer, and always turns any conversation which could lead to the idea.
I have just seen McMahon. I must tell you a pretty trait of Lord Elgin. He obtained, somehow or other, a statement of Mad. Thiebault’s case; assembled all the first physicians at Paris, had a consultation, and sent the opinion resulting from it to the General. I think it was a trait of genius in good-nature.