It was as if they had been transported to another clime.  A Greek song was chanted to the accompaniment of a lyre, and when the honey, grapes, and other dishes were served a la Grecque, the enchantment was complete.  The poet recited odes from Anacreon and all passed off delightfully.

The fame of this novel supper was spread over Paris, and marvellous tales were told of its magnificence and its cost.  Mme. Le Brun writes:  “Some ladies asked me to repeat this pleasantry.  I refused for various reasons, and several of them were disturbed by my refusal.  Soon a report that the supper had cost me twenty thousand francs was spread abroad.  The King spoke of it as a joke to the Marquis of Cubieres, who fortunately had been one of the guests and was able to convince His Majesty of the folly of such a story.  Nevertheless, the modest sum of twenty thousand at Versailles became forty thousand at Rome; at Vienna the Baroness de Strogonoff told me that I had spent sixty thousand francs for my Greek supper; you know that at Petersburg the price at length was fixed at eighty thousand francs, and the truth is that it cost me about fifteen francs!”

Early in 1789, when the warnings of the horrors about to take place began to be heard, Mme. Le Brun went to Italy.  In each city that she visited she was received with great kindness and many honors were shown her.  In Florence she was invited to paint her own portrait, to be hung in that part of the Uffizi set apart for the portraits of famous painters.  Later she sent the well-known portrait, near that of Angelica Kauffman.  It is interesting to read Goethe’s comparison of the two portraits.

Speaking of Angelica’s first, he writes:  “It has a truer tone in the coloring, the position is more pleasing, and the whole exhibits more correct taste and a higher spirit in art.  But the work of Le Brun shows more careful execution, has more vigor in the drawing, and more delicate touches.  It, has, moreover, a clear though somewhat exaggerated coloring.  The Frenchwoman understands the art of adornment—­the headdress, the hair, the folds of lace on the bosom, all are arranged with care and, as one might say, con amore.  The piquant, handsome face, with its lively expression, its parted lips disclosing a row of pearly teeth, presents itself to the beholder’s gaze as if coquettishly challenging his admiration, while the hand holds the pencil as in the act of drawing.

“The picture of Angelica, with head gently inclined and a soft, intellectual melancholy pervading the countenance, evinces higher genius, even if, in point of artistic skill, the preference should be given to the other.”