there," said I, "no happy medium; are there none who can feel the
advantages of liberty, and wish for a free constitution?" "None," said
she, "but myself and a few--some 12 or 15--we are nothing; not enough to
make a dinner party." I ventured to throw in a little flattery--I knew
my ground--and remarked that an opinion like hers, which had in some
measure influenced Europe, was in itself an host; the compliment was
well received, and in truth I could offer it _conscientiously_ to pay
tribute to her abilities.

On leaving Mme. de S. we paid another visit. From the greatest woman we
went to see our greatest man in Paris, Sir Charles Stuart,[42] to whom
Lord Sheffield had given me a letter of introduction. This had been sent
the day before, and of course I now went to see the effect. After
waiting in the Anti-chamber of the great man for about half an hour, and
seeing divers and sundry faces pass and repass in review, we were
summoned to an audience. We found a little, vulgar-looking man, whom I
should have mistaken for the great man's butler if he had not first
given a hint that he was bona fide the great man himself. I think the
conversation was nearly thus: E. S.: "Pray, Sir, are the Marshalls in
Paris, and if so is it easy to see them?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I
don't know." E. S.: "Pray, Sir, is there anything interesting to a
stranger like myself likely to take place in the course of the next
fortnight?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I don't know." E. S.: "Pray, Sir,
is the interior of the Thuilleries worth seeing, and could we easily see
the apartments?" Sir C. S.: "Upon my soul I don't know." This, I do
assure you, was the cream of the conversation. Now certainly a great man
ought to look wise and say he does not know so and so, when in fact he
knows all about it, but somehow or other I could not help thinking that
Sir Charles spoke the truth, for if I may draw any inference from
Physiognomy, I never saw a face upon which the character of "upon my
soul I don't know" was more visibly stamped. I left my card, bowed, and
retired....

I next turned my eyes to the Louvre.[43] What are the exhibitions of
London, modern or ancient? What are Lord Stafford's, Grosvenor's,
Angerstein's, &c., in comparison with this unrivalled gallery? Words
cannot describe the coup d'oeil. Figure to yourself a magnificent room so
long that you would be unable to recognise a person at the other
extremity, so long that the perspective lines termi