de Stael
about himself, Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My homage has never
been paid in that quarter, or we would have agreed still worse. I don't
talk--I can't flatter, and won't listen, except to a pretty or a foolish
woman. She bored Lewis with praises of himself till he sickened--found
out that Clarissa was perfection, and Mackintosh the first man in
England. There I agree, at least _one_ of the first--but Lewis did not.
As to Clarissa, I leave to those who can read it to judge and dispute. I
could not do the one, and am, consequently, not qualified for the other.
She told Lewis wisely, he being my friend, that I was affected, in the
first place; and that, in the next place, I committed the heinous
offence of sitting at dinner with my _eyes_ shut, or half shut. I wonder
if I really have this trick. I must cure myself of it, if true. One
insensibly acquires awkward habits, which should be broken in time. If
this is one, I wish I had been told of it before. It would not so much
signify if one was always to be checkmated by a plain woman, but one may
as well see some of one's neighbours, as well as the plate upon the
table.
I should like, of all things, to have heard the Amabaean eclogue between
her and Lewis--both obstinate, clever, odd, garrulous, and shrill. In
fact, one could have heard nothing else. But they fell out, alas!--and
now they will never quarrel again. Could not one reconcile them for the
"nonce?" Poor Corinne--she will find that some of her fine sayings won't
suit our fine ladies and gentlemen.
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