, however, did not approve of the jest, and took the Marquis
before the municipality, who sentenced him to a month's imprisonment for
his pleasantry.

The French are becoming very grave, and a bon-mot will not now, as
formerly, save a man's life.--I do not remember to have seen in any
English print an anecdote on this subject, which at once marks the levity
of the Parisians, and the wit and presence of mind of the Abbe Maury.--At
the beginning of the revolution, when the people were very much incensed
against the Abbe, he was one day, on quitting the Assembly, surrounded by
an enraged mob, who seized on him, and were hurrying him away to
execution, amidst the universal cry of _a la lanterne! a la lanterne!_
The Abbe, with much coolness and good humour, turned to those nearest him,
_"Eh bien mes amis et quand je serois a la lanterne, en verriez vous plus
clair?"_ Those who held him were disarmed, the bon-mot flew through the
croud, and the Abbe escaped while they were applauding it.--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