They are ashamed to
defend the Roman Catholic religion, because it is quite exploded; but I
am convinced they believe it in their hearts. They hate the Parliaments
and the philosophers, and are rejoiced that they may still idolise
royalty. At present, too, they are a little triumphant: the Court has
shown a little spirit, and the Parliaments much less: but as the Duc de
Choiseul, who is very fluttering, unsettled, and inclined to the
philosophers, has made a compromise with the Parliament of Bretagne, the
Parliaments might venture out again, if, as I fancy will be the case,
they are not glad to drop a cause, of which they began to be a little
weary of the inconveniences.

The generality of the men, and more than the generality are dull and
empty. They have taken up gravity, thinking it was philosophy and
English, and so have acquired nothing in the room of their natural
levity and cheerfulness. However, as their high opinion of their own
country remains, for which they can no longer assign any reason, they
are contemptuous and reserved, instead of being ridiculously,
consequently pardonably, impertinent. I have wondered, knowing my own
countrymen, that we had attained such a superiority. I wonder no longer,
and have a little more respect for English _heads_ than I had.

The women do not seem of the same country: if they are less gay than
they were, they are more informed, enough to make them very conversable.
I know six or seven with very superior understandings; some of them with
wit, or with softness, or very good sense.

[Illustration: THOMAS GRAY, THE POET.

_From a drawing in the National Portrait Gallery by James Basire, after
a sketch by Gray's friend and biographer, the Rev. William Mason._]

Madame Geoffrin, of whom you have heard much, is an extraordinary woman,
with more common sense than I almost ever met with. Great quickness in
discovering characters, penetration in going to the bottom of them, and
a pencil that never fails in a likeness--seldom a favourable one. She
exacts and preserves, spite of her birth and their nonsensical
prejudices about nobility, great court and attention. This she acquires
by a thousand little arts and offices of friendship: and by a freedom
and severity, which seem to be her sole end of drawing a concourse to
her; for she insists on scolding those she inveigles to her. She has
little taste and less knowledge, but protects artisans and authors, and
courts a few people to ha