sin1 (M. Voltaire's Zara) has with a charming (though little) person the most pathetic tone of voice, the finest expression in her face, and most proper action imaginable. There is also a Dufrêne,2 who did the chief character, a handsome man and a prodigious fine actor. The second we saw was the Philosophe Marié, and here they performed as well in comedy; there is a Mademoiselle Quinault, somewhat in Mrs. Clive's way, and a Monsieur Grandval,5 in the nature of Wilks, who is the genteelest thing in the world. There are several more would be much admired in England, and many (whom we have not seen) much celebrated here.

4

1 Jeanne Catherine Gaussem, called La Gaussin (1711-1767), a very popular actress, who had appeared first in 1731. She was considered the best heroine for heroic plays of that age, and Voltaire wrote for her the parts of Zaïre and Alzire.—[Ed.]

2 Abraham Alexis Quinault-Dufresne (1690-1767), the famous comedian, distinguished alike for his talent, his vanity, and his eccentricity.[Ed.]

3 A delightful comedy in verse by Néricault Destouches (1680-1754), perhaps the best comic dramatist of that age. It was brought out at the Comédie Française on the 15th of February 1727, and its plot was founded on the poet's own secret marriage with Dorothy Johnston in London, in 1723.— [Ed.]

4 Of the many actresses of this name, this was probably Jeanne Françoise Quinault, called Quinault cadette (1699-1783), sister of the actor Quinault - Dufresne. She was a woman of strong literary proclivities, and after her retirement in 1741 her salon became one of the principal centres for the meetings of the Encyclopedists.—[Ed.]

5 Racot de Grandval (1710-1784), son of the dramatist, and himself a famous comedian. He afterwards enjoyed a great success as the author of a series of abominable farces.—[Ed. ]

Great part of our time is spent in seeing churches and palaces full of fine pictures, etc., the quarter of which is not yet exhausted. For my part, I could entertain myself this month merely with the common streets and the people in them.

XV. TO RICHARD WEST.

Paris, May 22, 1739.

AFTER the little particulars aforesaid I should have proceeded to a journal of our transactions for this week past, should have carried you post from hence to Versailles, hurried you through the gardens to Trianon, back again to Paris, so away to Chantilly. But the fatigue is perhaps more than you can bear, and moreover I think I have reason to stomach your last piece of gravity. Supposing you were in your soberest mood, I am sorry you should think me capable of ever being so dissipé, so evaporé, as not to be in a condition of relishing anything you could say to me. And now, if you have a mind to make your peace with me, arouse ye from your megrims and your melancholies, and (for exercise is good for you) throw away your night-cap, call for your jackboots, and set out with me, last Saturday evening, for Versailles—and so at eight o'clock, passing through a road speckled with vines, and villas, and hares, and partridges, we arrive at the great avenue, flanked on either hand with a double row of trees about half a mile long, and with the palace itself to terminate the

view; facing which, on each side of you is placed a semicircle of very handsome buildings, which form the stables. These we will not enter into, because you know we are no jockeys. Well! and is this the great front of Versailles? What a huge heap of littleness! it is composed, as it were, of three courts, all open to the eye at once, and gradually diminishing till you come to the royal apartments, which on this side present but half a dozen windows and a balcony. This last is all that can be called a front, for the rest is only great wings. The hue of all this mass is black, dirty red, and yellow; the first proceeding from stone changed by age; the second, from a mixture of brick; and the last, from a profusion of tarnished gilding. You cannot see a more disagreeable tout-ensemble; and, to finish the matter, it is all stuck over in many places with small busts of a tawny hue between every two windows. We pass through this to go into the garden,1 and here the case is indeed altered; nothing can be vaster and more magnificent than the back front; before it a very spacious terrace spreads itself, adorned with two large basons; these are bordered and lined (as most of the others) with white marble, with handsome statues of bronze reclined on their edges. From hence you descend a huge flight of steps into a semi

1 "The garden is littered with statues and fountains, each of which has its tutelary deity. In particular, the elementary god of fire solaces himself in one. In another, Enceladus, in lieu of a mountain, is overwhelmed with many waters. . . . In short, 'tis a garden for a great child."-[Walpole to West.]

circle formed by woods, that are cut all around into niches, which are filled with beautiful copies of all the famous antique statues in white marble. Just in the midst is the bason of Latona; she and her children are standing on the top of a rock in the middle, on the sides of which are the peasants, some half, some totally changed into frogs, all which throw out water at her in great plenty. From this place runs on the great alley, which brings you into a complete round, where is the bason of Apollo, the biggest in the gardens. He is rising in his car out of the water, surrounded by nymphs and tritons, all in bronze, and finely executed, and these, as they play, raise a perfect storm about him; beyond this is the great canal, a prodigious long piece of water, that terminates the whole: all this you have at one coup d'œil in entering the garden, which is truly great. I cannot say as much of the general taste of the place: everything you behold savours too much of art; all is forced, all is constrained about you; statues and vases sowed everywhere without distinction; sugar loaves and minced pies of yew; scrawl work of box, and little squirting jets-d'eau, besides a great sameness in the walks, cannot help striking one at first sight, not to mention the silliest of labyrinths, and all Æsop's fables in water; since these were designed in usum Delphini only. Here then we walk by moonlight, and hear the ladies and the nightingales sing. Next morning, being Whitsunday, make ready to go to the Installation of nine Knights du Saint

Esprit, Cambis 1 is one: high mass celebrated with music, great crowd, much incense, King, Queen, Dauphin, Mesdames, Cardinals, and Court: Knights arrayed by his Majesty; reverences before the altar, not bows but curtsies; stiff hams: much tittering among the ladies; trumpets, kettle-drums, and fifes. My dear West, I am vastly delighted with Trianon, all of us with Chantilly; if you would know why, you must have patience, for I can hold my pen no longer, except to tell you that I saw Britannicus last night; all the characters, particularly Agrippina and Nero, done to perfection; to-morrow Phædra and Hippolitus. We are making you a little bundle of petites pieces; there is nothing in them, but they are acting at present; there are too Crebillon's Letters, 2 and Amusemens sur le langage des Bêtes, said to be of one Bougeant, a Jesuit; they are both esteemed, and lately come out. This day se'nnight we go to Rheims.

1 The Marquis de Cambis-Velleron (1706-1772), the Pope's Lieutenant-General in France, equally famous as a brilliant soldier and as a fanatical collector of illuminated MSS. and rare first editions. Gray mentions him, no doubt, because he had just returned from an embassy in England.--[Ed.]

2 Evidently the Lettres de la Marquise M*** au Comte de ***, of Crébillon fils. It is odd to find Gray speaking of this book, published in 1732, as new; he had probably just met with the second edition, published in 1738.—[Ed.]

3 The conjecture was right. L'Amusement philosophique sur le langage des Bêtes, which had then just appeared, was the work of the Jesuit scribbler Guillaume Hyacinthe Bougeant (1690-1743), who was banished to La Flèche for writing it, almost immediately after Gray left Paris.-[Ed.]