(1085) Mr. Walpole arrived at Paris on the 18th of august, and left it on the 5th of October. On the 18th of July, Madame du Deffand had written to him—“Vous souhaitez que je vive quatre-vingt-huit ans; et pourquoi le souhaiter, si votre premier voyage ici doit `etre le dernier’! Pour que ce souhait m’e`ut `et`e agr`eable, il falloit y ajouter, ’Je verrai encore bien des fois ma Petite, et je jouerai d’un bonheur qui n’`etoit r`eserv`e qu’a moi, L’amiti`e la plus tendre, la plus sincere, et la plus constants qu’il f`ut jamais.’ Adieu! mon plaisir est troubl`e, je l’avoue; je crains que ce ne soit un exc`es de complaisance qui vous fasse faire ce voyage."-E.
Letter 368 To John Chute, Esq. Paris, August 30, 1769. (page 552)
I have been so hurried with paying and receiving visits, that I have not had a moment’s worth of time to write. My passage was very tedious, and lasted near nine hours for want of wind. But I need not talk of my journey; for Mr. Maurice, whom I met on the road, will have told you that I was safe on terra firma.
Judge of my surprise at hearing four days ago, that my Lord Dacre(1086) and my lady were arrived here. They are lodged within a few doors of me. He is come to consult a Doctor Pomme,(1087) who has prescribed wine, and Lord Dacre already complains of the violence of his appetite. If you and I had pommed him to eternity, he would not have believed us. A man across the sea tells him the plainest thing in the world; that man happens to be called a doctor; and happening for novelty to talk common sense, is believed, as if he had talked nonsense! and what is more extraordinary, Lord Dacre thinks himself better, though he is so.
My dear old woman(1088) is in better health than when I left her, and her spirits so increased, that I tell her she will go mad with age. When they ask her how old she is, she answers, “J’ai soixante et mille ans.” She and I went to the Boulevard last night after supper, and drove about there till two in the morning. We are going to sup in the country this evening, and are to go tomorrow night at eleven to the puppet-show. A prot`eg`e of hers has written a piece for that theatre. I have not yet seen Madame du Barri, nor can get to see her picture at the exposition at the Louvre, the crowds are so enormous that go thither for that purpose. As royal curiosities are the least part of my virt`u, I wait with patience. Whenever I have an opportunity I visit gardens, chiefly with a view to Rosette’s having a walk. She goes nowhere else, because there is a distemper among the dogs.