1830.] France and Miladi Morgan. 443 



should remain at home on the following morning to sit for a medal to 

 J)avid I and the information brought in a numerous class of morning 

 visitors. From twelve till four my little salon was a congress, com- 

 posed of the representatives of every vocation of arts, letters, science, 

 bon-ton, and philosophy' This congress of all the genius of France, 

 come to do homage to Miladi ! she tells us was so crowded, that, ' as 

 in the opera boxes of Italy/ the comers and goers pushed on each other, 

 the first being absolutely obliged to take their departure before their 

 followers in this levee could make their way in ! 



" But what are the names of this brilliant coterie ? M. Pigault le 

 Brun ! an old wretch of nearly eighty, author of a long file of the most 

 licentious novels ; M. Mignet, who has compiled two little volumes on 

 that original subject, the Revolution ; M. Merrimee, who has written 

 some feeble attempts at plays, which have never been played, and M. 

 Beyle, who calls himself Count de Stendhal, and writes epithalamiums 

 and epitaphs, which might be easily changed for each other, and all 

 kinds of trumpery and foolery, under all kinds of titles and those are the 

 stars of Miladi Morgan's horizon. To every one of them, of course, 

 she gives a panegyric as misplaced and cloying as she expects in return. 

 Pigault is all wit and humour ; Mignet honest and fearless, with a 

 style which is at once mathematics, epigrams and philosophy ! a 

 valuable mixture. Merrimee is, of course, ' simple, natural, animafed,' 

 and as like his own dramas as possible. 



" Here the epithets are a little run out, and Beyle is only brilliant. 

 But I am tired of her fulsome stuff. We have, however, a dash of 



diplomacy, a Mr. B of the American embassy, a Portuguese attache, 



an attache from Chili, &c. &c. But you lose the true burlesque of this me- 

 lange, by not being on the spot. You should see the ragged regiment who 

 fill the ranks of diplomacy here, to judge of her ladyship's vogue. And 

 all this while, to consummate the feast of reason, while M. David was 

 modelling that countenance, which is to go down to posterity as the 

 shrine of Miladi's genius, and make medals valuable ; a piano was kept 

 tinkling away in the room, where the ' music of Rossini was sung* in 

 snatches, the only mode indicative of feeling, genius, &c., ' by one 

 whose young fresh tones, and sweet expression, Rossini himself had 

 deigned to approve !' Bravo ! What an Armida, in her palace of plea- 

 sure, what a combination of the loves and graces, to be gathered alone 

 round the celebrity of Miladi Morgan ! 



" But I can assure you, lightly as you in England may think of 



our ideas on matters of morals or religion, we are by no means better 

 pleased with her theories on those points than her taste in company. 

 She tells us, for instance, that she thinks the martyrs of Christianity 

 afford no example half so fine as, or, in her own words, f nothing com- 

 parable to, the self-immolation of Charlotte Corday.' 



" Now, all the world, but this antique little philosopher on assassina- 

 tion, know that Charlotte Corday was a half-mad poor creature, who 

 drove a knife into Marat's heart : a very profitable action for the country, 

 I admit, but a mere affair of frenzy and blood on the lady's part. 

 And yet this melancholy and sanguinary frenzy is to put her above the 

 innocence, and holy intrepidity of beings who died for the highest 

 interests of mankind. She also calls the decent observance of the Sab- 

 bath in your country, ( pharisaical, a narrow and odious view of the 

 divine attributes ;' and further declares that the attempts to sustain this 



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