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"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know Paris is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is Talma, la Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and noticing that his conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, he added quickly: "There is only one Paris in the world. You have been to Paris and have remained Russian.
I had never seen Mademoiselle Duchenois to perfection before. MRS. MARCET to MARIA EDGEWORTH. MALAGNY, Nov. 15, 1820. I have hesitated for some time past, "Shall I or shall I not write to Miss Edgeworth?" for I felt that I could not write without touching on an article in the Quarterly a subject which makes my blood boil with indignation, and which rouses every feeling of contempt and abhorrence.
I am afraid my admiration of Shakespeare, my want of sympathy with the artificial style of French tragedy, and perhaps my youthful remembrance of our great tragedian Mrs. Siddons, made me unjust to Mademoiselle Duchênois, who, although ugly, was certainly an excellent actress and a favourite of the public.
Lady Beauchamp, Lady Longford's mother, a great friend of Madame de Vaudreuil's, with whom we dined the next day, and who had procured for us the Duc de Choiseul's box at the Theatre Francais, when the house was to be uncommonly crowded to see Mademoiselle Duchenois in Athalie "avec tous les choeurs," and a most striking spectacle it was!
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