* * * This morning I have received a note of welcome, like herself, from Sophie de V. She will not invite me to the Saturday soirée, at the Jardin des Plantes, (Baron Cuvier’s) which takes place every week, because she says, “vous êtes invitée née”—a compliment prettily expressed.
(7th day, 6th of November.) A bright day; the statues in the Tuilleries gardens looking so white, and what remains of the foliage on the trees so richly tinted! The right side of the prospect (that is, the Invalides and other lofty buildings) is clothed in sunshine; the palace is in shade—but even while I write the scene is changing, and all behind the palace is becoming a sheet of silver! May this be emblematical of the future prospects of its present owner, and of all to whom he belongs! * * * *
The light has now passed entirely away from the côté droit to the côté gauche; a little breeze is getting up, and the gorgeous autumnal leaves are waving in it to and fro.
Then * * * * * but I will not indulge my fancy—a truce to metaphors and types; my object is matter of fact. I have just read the speeches of our Parliament, in the Journal des Débats. How entirely I agree with Lord Grey; but the bare possibility of war with France is insupportable! I cannot hate and condemn war more than I do, else this fear would make me. Brougham does not mention such a possibility, and I think his opinion nearly as good as Lord Grey’s.
I have engaged lodgings for a month, at the Hôtel de Douvres; my apartment looks on the Rue de la Paix, and I can also see the Boulevard des Capucins! an excellent situation, but the rooms so small!—Well! a month is soon gone, and at the end of it I may be gone too; who knows?
I dine at five, and at eight shall go to M. Cuvier’s * * * Though I went early, the room was full enough to make me feel a wish I had come earlier; most of the faces were unknown to me. By half-past nine the room was almost full, of, I believe, persons all distinguished in some way or another. “Who is that gentleman?” said I, “Oh! nothing particularly distinguished, he is only un homme d’esprit,” “only un homme d’esprit!” replied another, what a compliment! when wit is so scarce. * * * *
Soon, Baron de Humboldt was announced, and I was looking eagerly round for my old and valued acquaintance, when M. Cuvier led him to me. I was very glad to see him, but sorry to hear he was going to England. We had not met for sixteen years. “You find him then grown grey,” (said la Baronne.) True, but he was embellished, for he was grown fat, and really is now good looking.
Another pleasure awaited me, in the entrance of my friend David, who did not know of my arrival; he was indeed surprised, but hurt, (and perhaps with justice,) that I had not let him know I was come or coming.
David speaks highly of the king, and says, while mounting guard the other morning, he saw him in his night-cap, walking on the terrace. Poor man! I dare say he cannot sleep much!
“Happy low, lie down,