--I have
nothing to offer after this trait which is worthy of succeeding it, but
will add that I am always Yours.
July 24, 1792.
Our revolution aera has passed tranquilly in the provinces, and with less
turbulence at Paris than was expected. I consign to the Gazette-writers
those long descriptions that describe nothing, and leave the mind as
unsatisfied as the eye. I content myself with observing only, that the
ceremony here was gay, impressive, and animating. I indeed have often
remarked, that the works of nature are better described than those of
art. The scenes of nature, though varied, are uniform; while the
productions of art are subject to the caprices of whim, and the
vicissitudes of taste. A rock, a wood, or a valley, however the scenery
may be diversified, always conveys a perfect and distinct image to the
mind; but a temple, an altar, a palace, or a pavilion, requires a detail,
minute even to tediousness, and which, after all, gives but an imperfect
notion of the object. I have as often read descriptions of the Vatican,
as of the Bay of Naples; yet I recollect little of the former, while the
latter seems almost familiar to me.--Many are strongly impressed with the
scenery of Milton's Paradise, who have but confused ideas of the
splendour of Pandemonium. The descriptions, however, are equally minute,
and the poetry of both is beautiful.
But to return to this country, which is not absolutely a Paradise, and I
hope will not become a Pandemonium--the ceremony I have been alluding to,
though really interesting, is by no means to be considered as a proof
that the ardour for liberty increases: on the contrary, in proportion as
these fetes become more frequent, the enthusiasm which they excite seems
to diminish.
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