feelings!

It would be fortunate, indeed, for the King of France if he had many
such men as the Duc de Guiche around him--men with enlightened minds,
who have profited by the lessons of adversity, and kept pace with the
rapidly advancing knowledge of the times to which they belong.

Painful, indeed, would be the position of this excellent man should any
circumstances occur that would place the royal family in jeopardy, for
he is too sensible not to be aware of the errors that might lead to
such a crisis, and too loyal not to share the perils he could not ward
off; though he will never be among those who would incur them, for no
one is more impressed with the necessity of justice and impartiality
than he is.




CHAPTER XVI.


The approach of spring is already visible here, and right glad am I to
welcome its genial influence; for a Paris winter possesses in my
opinion no superiority over a London one,--nay, though it would be
deemed by the French little less than a heresy to say so, is even more
damp and disagreeable.

The Seine has her fogs, as dense, raw, and chilling, as those of old
Father Thames himself; and the river approximating closer to "the gay
resorts" of the _beau monde_, they are more felt. The want of draining,
and the vapours that stagnate over the turbid waters of the _ruisseaux_
that intersect the streets at Paris, add to the humidity of the
atmosphere; while the sewers in London convey away unseen and unfelt,
if not always unsmelt, the rain which purifies, while it deluges, our
streets. Heaven defend me, however, from uttering this disadvantageous
comparison to Parisian cars, for the French are too fond of Paris not
to be proud even of its _ruisseaux_, and incredulous of its fogs, and
any censure on either would be ill received.

The gay butterflies when they first expand their varicoloured wings and
float in air, seem not more joyous than the Parisians have been during
the last two days of sunshine. The Jardins des Tuileries are crowded
with well-dressed groups; the budding leaves have burst forth with that
delicate green peculiar to early spring; and the chirping of
innumerable birds, as they flit from tree to tree, announces the
approach of the vernal season.

Paris is at no time so attractive, in my opinion, as in spring; and the
verdure of the foliage during its infancy is so tender, yet bright,
that it looks far more beautiful than with us in our London squares or
parks, where no sooner do the leaves open into life, than they become
stained by the impurity of the atmosphere, which soon deposes its dingy
particles on them, "making the green one"--black.

The Boulevards were well stocked with flowers to-day, the
_bouquetiиres_ having resumed their stalls; and many a pedestrian might
be seen bargaining for these fair and frail harbingers of rosy spring.

How exhilarating are the effects of this season on the spirits
depressed by the long and gloomy winter, and the frame rendered languid
by the same cause! The heart begins to beat with more energetic
movement, the blood flows more briskly through the veins, and the
spirit of hope is revivified in the human heart. This sympathy between
awakening nature, on the earth, and on man, renders us more, that at
any other period, fond of the country; for this is the season of
promise; and we know that each coming day, for a certain time, will
bestow some new beauty on all that is now budding forth, until glowing,
laughing summer has replaced the fitful smiles and tears of spring.

And there are persons who tell me they experience nought of this
elasticity of spirits at the approach of spring! How are such mortals
to be pitied! Yet, perhaps, they are less so than we imagine, for the
same insensibility that prevents their being exhilarated, may preclude
them from the depression so peculiar to all who have lively feelings.

"I see nothing so very delightful in spring," said ---- to me,
yesterday. "_Au contraire_, I think it rather disagreeable, for the
sunshine cheats one into the belief of warmth, and we go forth less
warmly clad in consequence, so return home chilled by the sharp cold
air which always prevails at this season, and find, as never fails to
be the case, that our stupid servants have let out the fires, because,
truly, the sun was shining in the cold blue sky." ---- reminds me of
the man mentioned in Sterne's works, who, when his friend looking on a
beautiful prospect, compared a green field with a flock of
snowy-fleeced sheep on it, to a vast emerald studded with pearls,
answered that _he_ could see nothing in it but grass and mutton.

Lord B---- set out for London to-day, to vote on the Catholic question,
which is to come on immediately. His going at this moment, when he is
far from well, is no little sacrifice of personal comfort; but never
did he consider self when a duty was to be performed. I wish the
question was carried, and he safely back again. What would our
political friends say if they knew how strongly I urged him not to go,
but to send his proxy to Lord Rosslyn? I would not have consented to
his departure, were it not that the Duke of Wellington takes such an
interest in the measure.

How times are changed! and how much is due to those statesmen who yield
up their own convictions for the general good! There is no action in
the whole life of the Duke more glorious than his self-abnegation on
this occasion, nor is that of the Tory leader of the House of Commons
less praiseworthy; yet how many attacks will both incur by this
sacrifice of their opinions to expediency! for when were the actions of
public men judged free from the prejudices that discolour and distort
all viewed through their medium? That which originates in the purest
patriotism, will be termed an unworthy tergiversation; but the reward
of these great and good men will be found in their own breasts. I am
_triste_ and unsettled, so will try the effect of a drive in the Bois
de Boulogne.

I was forcibly reminded yesterday of the truth of an observation of a
clever French writer, who says, that to judge the real merit of a cook,
one should sit down to table without the least feeling of appetite, as
the triumph of the culinary art was not to satisfy hunger but to excite
it. Our new cook achieved this triumph yesterday, for he is so
inimitable an artist, that the flavour of his _plats_ made even me,
albeit unused to the sensation of hunger, feel disposed to render
justice to them. Monsieur Louis--for so he is named--has a great
reputation in his art; and it is evident, even from the proof furnished
of his _savoir-faire_ yesterday, that he merits it.

It is those only who have delicate appetites that can truly appreciate
the talent of a cook; for they who devour soon lose the power of
tasting. No symptom of that terrible malady, well named by the
ingenious Grimod de la Reyniиre _remords d'estomac_, but vulgarly
called indigestion, follows my unusual indulgence in _entrйes_ and
_entremets_, another delightful proof of the admirable skill of
Monsieur Louis.

The English are apt to spoil French cooks by neglecting the _entrйes_
for the _piиce de rйsistance_, and, when the cook discovers this, which
he is soon enabled to do by the slight breaches made in the first, and
the large one in the second, his _amour-propre_ becomes wounded, and he
begins to neglect his _entrйes_. Be warned, then, by me, all ye who
wish your cooks to retain their skill, and however your native tastes
for that English favourite dish denominated "a plain joint" may
prevail, never fail to taste the _entrйe_.

_А propos_ of cooks, an amusing instance of the _amour-propre_ of a
Parisian cook was related to me by the gourmand Lord ----, the last
time we dined at his house. Wishing to have a particular sauce made
which he had tasted in London, and for which he got the receipt, he
explained to his cook, an artist of great celebrity, how the component
parts were to be amalgamated.

"How, mylord!" exclaimed _Monsieur le cuisinier_; "an English sauce! Is
it possible your lordsip can taste any thing so barbarous? Why, years
ago, my lord, a profound French philosopher described the English as a
people who had a hundred religions, but only one sauce."

More anxious to get the desired sauce than to defend the taste of his
country, or correct the impertinence of his cook, Lord ---- immediately
said, "On recollection, I find I made a mistake; the sauce I mean is _а
la Hollandaise_, and not _а l'Anglaise_."

_A la bonne heure_, my lord, _c'est autre chose_; and the sauce was
forthwith made, and was served at table the day we dined with Lord
----.

An anecdote is told of this same cook, which Lord ---- relates with
great good humour. The cook of another English nobleman conversing with
him, said, "My master is like yours--a great _gourmand_."

"Pardon me," replied the other; "there is a vast difference between our
masters. Yours is simply a _gourmand_, mine is an epicure as well."

The Duc de Talleyrand, dining with us a few days ago, observed that to
give a perfect dinner, the Amphitryon should have a French cook for
soups, _entrйes_ and _entremets_; an English _rфtisseur_, and an
Italian _confiseur_, as without these, a dinner could not be faultless.
"But, alas!" said he--and he sighed while he spoke it--"the Revolution
has destroyed our means of keeping these artists; and we eat now to
support nature, instead of, as formerly, when we ate because it was a
pleasure to eat." The good-natured Duc nevertheless seemed to eat his
dinner as if he still continued to take a pleasure in the operation,
and did ample justice to a certain _plat de cailles farcies_ which he
pronounced to be perfect.

Our landlord, le Marquis de L----, has sent to offer us the refusal of
our beautiful abode. The Duc de N---- has proposed to take it for
fourteen on twenty-one years, at the same rent we pay (an extravagant
one, by the bye), and as we only took it for a year, we must eithor
leave or hire it for fourteen or twenty-one years, which is out of the
question.

Nothing can be more fair or honourable than the conduct of the Marquis
de L----, for he laid before us the offer of the Duc de N----; but as
we do not intend to remain more than two or three years more in Paris,
we must leave this charming house, to our infinite regret, when the
year for which we have hired it expires. Gladly would we have engaged
it for two, or even three years more, but this is now impossible; and
we shall have the trouble of again going the round of house-hunting.

When I look on the suite of rooms in which I have passed such pleasant
days, I am filled with regret at the prospect of leaving them, but it
cannot be helped, so it is useless to repine. We have two months to
look about us, and many friends who are occupied in assisting us in the
search.

A letter from Lord B----; better, but still ailing. He presided at the
Covent Garden Theatrical Fund Dinner, at the request of the Duke of
Clarence. He writes me that he met there Lord F. Leveson Gower[5], who
was introduced to him by Mr. Charles Greville, and of whom he has
conceived a very high opinion. Lord B---- partakes my belief in
physiognomy, but in this instance the impression formed from the
countenance is justified by the reputation of the individual, who is
universally esteemed and respected.

Went again to see the Hфtel Monaco, which Lord B---- writes me to close
for; but its gloomy and uncomfortable bed-rooms discourage me, _malgrй_
the splendour of the _salons_, which are decidedly the finest I have
seen at Paris, I will decide on nothing until Lord B----'s return.

Went to the College of Ste.-Barbe to-day, with the Duchesse de Guiche,
to see her sons. Great was their delight at the meeting. I thought they
would never have done embracing her; and I, too, was warmly welcomed by
these dear and affectionate boys, who kissed me again and again. They
have already won golden opinions at the college, by their rare aptitude
in acquiring all that is taught them, and by their docility and manly
characters.

The masters paid the Duchesse the highest compliments on the progress
her sons had made previously to their entrance at Ste.-Barbe, and
declared that they had never met any children so far advanced for their
age. I shared the triumph of this admirable mother, whose fair cheeks
glowed, and whose beautiful eyes sparkled, on hearing the eulogiums
pronounced on her boys. Her observation to me was, "How pleased their
father will be!"

Ste.-Barbe is a little world in itself, and a very different world to
any I had previously seen. In it every thing smacks of learning, and
every body seems wholly engrossed by study.

The spirit of emulation animates all, and excites the youths into an
application so intense as to be often