and plaster for freestone resembles the mean ambition which displays
Bristol stones in default of diamonds.
We went to theatre in the evening - ComÃ©die FranÃ§aise the place,
_Rosemunde_ the piece. It is the composition of a young man with a
promising name - Ã‰mile de Bonnechose; the story that of Fair Rosamond.
There were some good situations, and the actors in the French taste
seemed to me admirable, particularly Mademoiselle Bourgoin. It would be
absurd to attempt to criticise what I only half understood; but the
piece was well received, and produced a very strong effect. Two or three
ladies were carried out in hysterics; one next to our box was
frightfully ill. A Monsieur _Ã belles moustaches_ - the husband, I trust,
though it is likely they were _en partie fine_ - was extremely and
affectionately assiduous. She was well worthy of the trouble, being very
pretty indeed; the face beautiful, even amidst the involuntary
convulsions. The afterpiece was _Femme Juge et Partie_, with which I was
less amused than I had expected, because I found I understood the
language less than I did ten or eleven years since. Well, well, I am
past the age of mending.
Some of our friends in London had pretended that at Paris I might stand
some chance of being encountered by the same sort of tumultuary
reception which I met in Ireland; but for this I see no ground. It is a
point on which I am totally indifferent. As a literary man I cannot
affect to despise public applause; as a private gentleman I have always
been embarrassed and displeased with popular clamours, even when in my
favour. I know very well the breath of which such shouts are composed,
and am sensible those who applaud me to-day would be as ready to toss me
to-morrow; and I would not have them think that I put such a value on
their favour as would make me for an instant fear their displeasure. Now
all this disclamation is sincere, and yet it sounds affected. It puts me
in mind of an old woman who, when Carlisle was taken by the Highlanders
in 1745, chose to be particularly apprehensive of personal violence, and
shut herself up in a closet, in order that she might escape ravishment.
But no one came to disturb her solitude, and she began to be sensible
that poor Donald was looking out for victuals, or seeking for some small
plunder, without bestowing a thought on the fair sex; by and by she
popped her head out of her place of refuge with the petty question,
"Good folks, can you tell when the ravishing is going to begin?" I am
sure I shall neither hide myself to avoid applause, which probably no
one will think of conferring, nor have the meanness to do anything which
can indicate any desire of ravishment. I have seen, when the late Lord
Erskine entered the Edinburgh theatre, papers distributed in the boxes
to mendicate a round of applause - the natural reward of a poor player.
_October_ 31. - At breakfast visited by M. Gallois, an elderly Frenchman
(always the most agreeable class), full of information, courteous and
communicative. He had seen nearly, and remarked deeply, and spoke
frankly, though with due caution. He went with us to the Museum, where I
think the Hall of Sculpture continues to be a fine thing; that of
Pictures but tolerable, when we reflect upon 1815. A number of great
French daubs (comparatively), by David and Gerard, cover the walls once
occupied by the Italian _chefs-d'oeuvre. Fiat justitia, ruat coelum_. We
then visited Notre Dame and the Palace of Justice. The latter is
accounted the oldest building in Paris, being the work of St. Louis. It
is, however, in the interior, adapted to the taste of Louis XIV. We
drove over the Pont Neuf, and visited the fine quays, which was all we
could make out to-day, as I was afraid to fatigue Anne. When we returned
home I found Count Pozzo di Borgo waiting for me, a personable man,
inclined to be rather corpulent - handsome features, with all the
Corsican fire in his eye. He was quite kind and communicative. Lord
Granville had also called, and sent Mr. Jones [his secretary] to invite
us to dinner to-morrow. In the evening at the OdÃ©on, where we saw
_Ivanhoe_. It was superbly got up, the Norman soldiers wearing pointed
helmets and what resembled much hauberks of mail, which looked very
well. The number of the attendants, and the skill with which they were
moved and grouped on the stage, were well worthy of notice. It was an
opera, and of course the story greatly mangled, and the dialogue in a
great part nonsense. Yet it was strange to hear anything like the words
which I (then in an agony of pain with spasms in my stomach) dictated to
William Laidlaw at Abbotsford, now recited in a foreign tongue, and for
the amusement of a strange people. I little thought to have survived the
completing of this novel.
 Eldest daughter of the illustrious Admiral Lord Duncan, wife of
Sir Hew Hamilton Dalrymple. She died in 1852.
 This implacable enemy of Napoleon, - a Corsican, died in his
seventy-fourth year in 1842.
 E.H. Locker, Esq., then Secretary, afterwards one of the
Commissioners of Greenwich Hospital - an old and dear friend of
Scott's. - See Oct. 25.
 As an illustration of Constable's accuracy in gauging the value of
literary property, it may be stated that in his formal declaration,
after sequestration, he said: - "I was so sanguine as to the success of
the _Memoirs of Napoleon_ that I did not hesitate to express it as my
opinion that I had much confidence in it producing him at least Â£10,000,
and this I observed, as my expectation, to Sir W. Scott." This opinion
was expressed not only before the sale of the work, but before it was
all written. - _A. Constable and his Correspondents_, vol. iii. p. 313.
 Another of the Abbotsford labourers.
 See Ballad of _Edom of Gordon_.
 "On the 12th of October, Sir Walter left Abbotsford for London,
where he had been promised access to the papers in the Government
offices; and thence he proceeded to Paris, in the hope of gathering from
various eminent persons authentic anecdotes concerning Napoleon. His
Diary shows that he was successful in obtaining many valuable materials
for the completion of his historical work; and reflects, with sufficient
distinctness, the very brilliant reception he on this occasion
experienced both in London and Paris. The range of his society is
strikingly (and unconsciously) exemplified in the record of one day,
when we find him breakfasting at the Royal Lodge in Windsor Park, and
supping on oysters and porter in "honest Dan Terry's house, like a
squirrel's cage," above the Adelphi Theatre in the Strand. There can be
no doubt that this expedition was in many ways serviceable in his _Life
of Napoleon_; and I think as little that it was chiefly so by renewing
his spirits. The deep and respectful sympathy with which his
misfortunes, and gallant behaviour under them, had been regarded by all
classes of men at home and abroad, was brought home to his perception in
a way not to be mistaken. He was cheered and gratified, and returned to
Scotland with renewed hope and courage for the prosecution of his
marvellous course of industry." - _Life_, vol. ix. pp. 2, 3.
 John B. Saurey Morritt of Rokeby, a friend of twenty years'
standing, and "one of the most accomplished men that ever shared Scott's
He had published, before making Scott's acquaintance, a _Vindication of
Homer_, in 1798, a treatise on _The Topography of Troy_, 1800, and
translations and imitations of the minor Greek Poets in 1802.
Mr. Morritt survived his friend till February 12th, 1843, when he died
at Rokeby Park, Yorkshire, in his seventy-second year. - See _Life_
 _MS. note on margin of Journal_ by Mr. Morritt: "No - it was left
by Reynolds to Mason, by Mason to Burgh, and given to me by Mr. Burgh's
 _Chiverton_ was the first publication (anonymous) of Mr. W.
Harrison Ainsworth, the author of _Rookwood_ and other popular
romances. - J.G.L.
 It is interesting to know that Scott would not read this book
until _Woodstock_ was fairly off his hands.
See _ante_, p. 167, and the introduction to the original edition written
in March 1826, in which the author says: - "Some accidental collision
there must be, when works of a similar character are finished on the
same general system of historical manners, and the same historical
personages are introduced. Of course, if such have occurred, I shall be
probably the sufferer. But my intentions have been at least innocent,
since I look on it as one of the advantages attending the conclusion of
_Woodstock_, that the finishing of my own task will permit me to have
the pleasure of reading BRAMBLETYE-HOUSE, from which I have hitherto
conscientiously abstained." - _Novels_, vol. xxxix. pp. lxxv-vi.
 Ben Jonson, _Every Man in his Humour_.
 _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Sc. 3.
 _Rehearsal_, Act III. Sc. 1.
 _Merry Wives_, Act I. Sc. 3.
 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.
 Sir Walter had made his acquaintance in August 1822, and ever
afterwards they corresponded with each other - sometimes very
confidentially. - J.G.L.
 The Dumergues, at 15 Piccadilly West - early friends of Lady
Scott's. - See _Life_., vol. ii. p. 120.
 It is amusing to compare this criticism with Sir Walter's own
anxiety to identify his daughter-in-law's place, _Lochore_, with the
_Urbs Orrea_ of the Roman writers. See _Life_, vol. vii. p. 352. - J.G.L.
 This brilliant conversationalist was the author of several airy
and graceful productions in verse, which were published anonymously,
such as _Lines written at Ampthill Park_, in 1818; _Advice to Julia, a
letter in Rhyme_, in which he sketched high life in London, in 1820. He
also published _Crockford House_: a rhapsody, in 1827. Moore in his
_Diary_ has embalmed numerous examples of his satiric wit. Henry
Luttrell died in 1851.
 The _Orlando Furioso_, by Mr. Stewart Rose, was published in 8
vols. 8vo, London 1823-1831.
 _King Lear_, Act IV. Sc. 6. - J.G.L.
 Afterwards the Right Hon. Sir Robert Wilmot Horton, Governor of
 Moore, on hearing of Scott's arrival, hastened to London from
Sloperton, and had several pleasant meetings, particulars of which are
given in his _Diary_ (vol. v. pp. 121 to 126). He would, as Scott says
on the 23d, have gone to Paris with them - "seemed disposed to go"; but
between that date and 25th fancied that he saw something in Scott's
manner that made him hesitate, and then finally give up the idea. He
adds that Scott's friends had thrown out hints as to the impropriety of
such a political reprobate forming one of the party. This suspicion on
Moore's part shows how he had misunderstood Scott's real character. If
Scott thought it right to ask the Bard of Ireland to be his companion,
no hints from Mr. Wilmot Horton, or any members of the Court party,
would have influenced him, even though they had urged that "this
political reprobate" was author of _The Fudge Family in Paris_ and the
 Sir George died in 1853. His journal does not appear to have been
 Dr. Hughes, who died Jan. 6, 1833, aged seventy-seven, was one of
the Canons-residentiary of St. Paul's, London. He and Mrs. Hughes were
old friends of Sir Walter, who had been godfather to one of their
grandchildren. - See _Life_, vol. vii. pp. 259-260. Their son was John
Hughes, Esq., of Oriel College, whose "Itinerary of the Rhone" is
mentioned with praise in the introduction to _Quentin Durward_. - See
letter to Charles Scott, in _Life_, vol. vii. p. 275.
 Mr. Pringle was a Roxburghshire farmer's son who in youth
attracted Sir Walter's notice by his poem called _The Autumnal
Excursion; or, Sketches in Teviotdale_. He was for a short time Editor
of _Blackwood's Magazine_, but the publisher and he had different
politics, quarrelled, and parted. Sir Walter then gave Pringle strong
recommendations to the late Lord Charles Somerset, Governor of the Cape
of Good Hope in which colony he settled, and for some years throve under
the Governor's protection; but the newspaper alluded to in the text
ruined his prospects at the Cape; he returned to England, became
Secretary to the Anti-Slavery Society, published a charming little
volume entitled _African Sketches_, and died in December 1834. He was a
man of amiable feelings and elegant genius.
 An esteemed friend of Sir Walter's, who attended on him during his
illness in October 1831, and in June 1832.
 Afterwards Sir Francis Palgrave, Deputy-Keeper of the public
records, and author of the _History of Normandy and England_, 4 vols.
8vo, 1851-1864, and other works.
 William Wilson of Wandsworth Common, formerly of Wilsontown, in
Lanarkshire. - J.G.L.
 E.H. Locker, then Secretary of Greenwich Hospital. - See _ante_,
 _King John_, Act I. Sc. 1.
 There were two well-known Frenchmen of this name at the time of
Scott's visit to Paris: (1) Jean-Antoine-Gauvain Gallois, who was born
about 1755 and died in 1828; (2) Charles-AndrÃ©-Gustave-LÃ©onard Gallois,
born 1789, died 1851. It was the latter of these who translated from the
Italian of Colletta _Cinq jours de l'histoire de Naples_, 8vo, Paris,
1820. But at this date he was only thirty-seven, and it can scarcely be
of him that Scott writes (p. 288) as an "elderly" man. The probability
is that it was the elder Gallois whom Scott saw, and that he ascribed to
him, though the title is misquoted, a work written by the younger.
 "When he was in Paris," Hazlitt writes, "and went to Galignani's,
he sat down in an outer room to look at some book he wanted to see; none
of the clerks had the least suspicion who he was. When it was found out,
the place was in a commotion." - From Mr. Alexander Ireland's excellent
_Selections from Hazlitt's writings,_ 8vo, Lond. 1889, p. 482.
 _Ivanhoe_ might have borne a motto somewhat analogous to the
inscription which Frederick the Great's predecessor used to affix to his
attempts at portrait-painting when he had the gout: "Fredericus I. in
tormentis pinxit." - _Recollections of Sir Walter Scott_, p. 240. Lond.
_November_ 1. - I suppose the ravishing is going to begin, for we have
had the Dames des Halles, with a bouquet like a maypole, and a speech
full of honey and oil, which cost me ten francs; also a small
worshipper, who would not leave his name, but came _seulement pour avoir
le plaisir, la fÃ©licitÃ©_ etc. etc. All this jargon I answer with
corresponding _blarney_ of my own, for "have I not licked the black
stone of that ancient castle?" As to French, I speak it as it comes, and
like Doeg in _Absalom and Achitophel_ -
" - - dash on through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in."
We went this morning with M. Gallois to the Church of St. Genevieve, and
thence to the College Henri IV., where I saw once more my old friend
Chevalier. He was unwell, swathed in a turban of nightcaps and a
multiplicity of _robes de chambre_; but he had all the heart and the
vivacity of former times. I was truly glad to see the kind old man. We
were unlucky in our day for sights, this being a high festival - All
Souls' Day. We were not allowed to scale the steeple of St. Genevieve,
neither could we see the animals at the Jardin des Plantes, who, though
they have no souls, it is supposed, and no interest of course in the
devotions of the day, observe it in strict retreat, like the nuns of
Kilkenny. I met, however, one lioness walking at large in the Jardin,
and was introduced. This was Madame de Souza, the authoress of some
well-known French romances of a very classical character, I am told,
for I have never read them. She must have been beautiful, and is still
well-looked. She is the mother of the handsome Count de Flahault, and
had a very well-looking daughter with her, besides a son or two. She was
very agreeable. We are to meet again. The day becoming decidedly rainy,
we returned along the Boulevards by the Bridge of Austerlitz, but the
weather was so indifferent as to spoil the fine show.
We dined at the Ambassador's - Lord Granville, formerly Lord Leveson
Gower. He inhabits the same splendid house which Lord Castlereagh had in
1815, namely, Numero 30, Rue du Fauxbourg St. HonorÃ©. It once belonged
to Pauline Borghese, and if its walls could speak, they might tell us
mighty curious stories. Without their having any tongue, they spoke to
my feelings "with most miraculous organ." In these halls I had
often seen and conversed familiarly with many of the great and powerful,
who won the world by their swords, and divided it by their counsel.
Here I saw very much of poor Lord Castlereagh - a man of sense, presence
of mind, courage, and fortitude, which carried him through many an
affair of critical moment, when finer talents might have stuck in the
mire. He had been, I think, indifferently educated, and his mode of
speaking being far from logical or correct, he was sometimes in danger
of becoming almost ridiculous, in spite of his lofty presence, which had
all the grace of the Seymours, and his determined courage. But then
he was always up to the occasion, and upon important matters was an
orator to convince, if not to delight, his hearers. He is gone, and my
friend Stanhope also, whose kindness this town so strongly recalls. It
is remarkable they were the only persons of sense and credibility who
both attested supernatural appearances on their own evidence, and both
died in the same melancholy manner. I shall always tremble when any
friend of mine becomes visionary.
I have seen in these rooms the Emperor Alexander, Platoff,
Schwarzenberg, old Blucher, FouchÃ©, and many a marÃ©chal whose truncheon
had guided armies - all now at peace, without subjects, without dominion,
and where their past life, perhaps, seems but the recollection of a
feverish dream. What a group would this band have made in the gloomy
regions described in the Odyssey! But to lesser things. We were most
kindly received by Lord and Lady Granville, and met many friends, some
of them having been guests at Abbotsford; among these were Lords Ashley
and Morpeth - there were also Charles Ellis (Lord Seaford now), _cum
plurimis aliis_. Anne saw for the first time an entertainment _Ã la mode
de France_, where the gentlemen left the parlour with the ladies. In
diplomatic houses it is a good way of preventing political discussion,
which John Bull is always apt to introduce with the second bottle. We
left early, and came home at ten, much pleased with Lord and Lady
Granville's kindness, though it was to be expected, as our
recommendations came from Windsor.
_November_ 2. - Another gloomy day - a pize upon it! - and we have settled
to go to Saint Cloud, and dine, if possible, with the Drummonds at
Auteuil. Besides, I expect poor W.R. S[pencer] to breakfast. There is
another thought which depresses me.
Well - but let us jot down a little politics, as my book has a pretty
firm lock. The Whigs may say what they please, but I think the Bourbons
will stand. Gallois, no great Royalist, says that the Duke of Orleans
lives on the best terms with the reigning family, which is wise on his
part, for the golden fruit may ripen and fall of itself, but it would be
"Lend the crowd his arm to shake the tree."
The army, which was Bonaparte's strength, is now very much changed by
the gradual influence of time, which has removed many, and made invalids
of many more. The citizens are neutral, and if the King will govern
according to the Charte, and, what is still more, according to the
habits of the people, he will sit firm enough, and the constitution will
gradually attain more and more reverence as age gives it authority, and
distinguishes it from those temporary and ephemeral governments, which
seemed only set up to be pulled down. The most dangerous point in the
present state of France is that of religion. It is, no doubt, excellent
in the Bourbons to desire to make France a religious country; but they
begin, I think, at the wrong end. To press the observances and ritual of
religion on those who are not influenced by its doctrines is planting
the growing tree with its head downwards. Rites are sanctified by
belief; but belief can never arise out of an enforced observance of
ceremonies; it only makes men detest what is imposed on them by
compulsion. Then these Jesuits, who constitute emphatically an _imperium
in imperio_, labouring first for the benefit of their own order, and
next for that of the Roman See - what is it but the introduction into
France of a foreign influence, whose interest may often run counter to
the general welfare of the kingdom?
We have enough of ravishment. M. Meurice writes me that he is ready to
hang himself that we did not find accommodation at his hotel; and Madame
Mirbel came almost on her knees to have permission to take my portrait.
I was cruel; but, seeing her weeping-ripe, consented she should come
to-morrow and work while I wrote. A Russian Princess Galitzin, too,
demands to see me in the heroic vein; "_Elle vouloit traverser les mers
pour aller voir S.W.S_.," and offers me a rendezvous at my hotel. This
is precious tomfoolery; however, it is better than being neglected like
a fallen sky-rocket, which seemed like to be my fate last year.
We went to Saint Cloud with my old friend Mr. Drummond, now at a pretty
_maison de campagne_ at Auteuil. Saint Cloud, besides its unequalled
views, is rich in remembrances. I did not fail to revisit the
_Orangerie_, out of which Bon. expelled the Council of [Five Hundred]. I
thought I saw the scoundrels jumping the windows, with the bayonets at
their rumps. What a pity the house was not two stories high! I asked the
Swiss some questions on the _locale_, which he answered with becoming
caution, saying, however, that "he was not present at the time." There
are also new remembrances. A separate garden, laid out as a playground
for the royal children, is called Il Trocadero, from the siege of
Cadiz . But the Bourbons should not take military ground - it is
firing a pop-gun in answer to a battery of cannon.
All within the house is changed. Every trace of Nap. or his reign
totally done away, as if traced in sand over which the tide has passed.
Moreau and Pichegru's portraits hang in the royal ante-chamber. The
former has a mean look; the latter has been a strong and stern-looking
man. I looked at him, and thought of his death-struggles. In the
guard-room were the heroes of La VendÃ©e - Charette with his white bonnet,
the two La Rochejacqueleins, Lescure, in an attitude of prayer,
Stofflet, the gamekeeper, with others.
We dined at Auteuil. Mrs. Drummond, formerly the beautiful Cecilia
Telfer, has lost her looks, but kept her kind heart. On our return, went
to the Italian opera, and saw _Figaro_. Anne liked the music; to me it
was all caviare. A Mr. - - - dined with us; sensible, liberal in his
politics, but well informed and candid.
_November_ 3. - Sat to Mad. Mirbel - Spencer at breakfast. Went out and
had a long interview with Marshal Macdonald, the purport of which I have
put down elsewhere. Visited Princess Galitzin, and also Cooper, the
American novelist. This man, who has shown so much genius, has a good
deal of the manner, or want of manner, peculiar to his countrymen.
He proposed to me a mode of publishing in America by entering the book
as [the] property of a citizen. I will think of this. Every little
helps, as the tod says, when, etc. At night at the Theatre de Madame,
where we saw two _petit_ pieces, _Le Mariage de Raison_, and _Le plus
beau jour de ma vie_ - both excellently played. Afterwards at Lady
Granville's rout, which was as splendid as any I ever saw - and I have
seen _beaucoup dans ce genre_. A great number of ladies of the first
rank were present, and if honeyed words from pretty lips could surfeit,
I had enough of them. One can swallow a great deal of whipped cream, to
be sure, and it does not hurt an old stomach.
_November_ 4. - - Anne goes to sit to Mad. Mirbel. I called after ten,
Mr. Cooper and Gallois having breakfasted with me. The former seems
quite serious in desiring the American attempt. I must, however, take
care not to give such a monopoly as to prevent the American public from
receiving the works at the prices they are accustomed to. I think I may
as well try if the thing can be done.
After ten I went with Anne to the Tuileries, where we saw the royal
family pass through the Glass Gallery as they went to Chapel. We were