concluded that Paris must be infinitely superior. I had figured to
myself a splendid city, beautiful as large, of the most commanding
aspect, whose streets were ranges of magnificent palaces, composed of
marble and gold. On entering the faubourg St. Marceau, I saw nothing but
dirty stinking streets, filthy black houses, an air of slovenliness and
poverty, beggars, carters, butchers, cries of diet-drink and old hats.
This struck me so forcibly, that all I have since seen of real
magnificence in Paris could never erase this first impression, which has
ever given me a particular disgust to residing in that capital; and I may
say, the whole time I remained there afterwards, was employed in seeking
resources which might enable me to live at a distance from it. This is
the consequence of too lively imagination, which exaggerates even beyond
the voice of fame, and ever expects more than is told. I have heard
Paris so flatteringly described, that I pictured it like the ancient
Babylon, which, perhaps, had I seen, I might have found equally faulty,
and unlike that idea the account had conveyed. The same thing happened
at the Opera-house, to which I hastened the day after my arrival! I was
sensible of the same deficiency at Versailles! and some time after on
viewing the sea. I am convinced this would ever be the consequence of a
too flattering description of any object; for it is impossible for man,
and difficult even for nature herself, to surpass the riches of my
imagination.

By the reception I met with from all those to whom my letters were
addressed, I thought my fortune was certainly made. The person who
received me the least kindly was M. de Surbeck, to whom I had the
warmest recommendation. He had retired from the service, and lived
philosophically at Bagneux, where I waited on him several times without
his offering me even a glass of water. I was better received by Madam de
Merveilleux, sister-in-law to the interpreter, and by his nephew, who was