in our Hotel, we
determined to remain here at fifteen francs per day. We are in the midst
of what can be seen, and we are very comfortably fed and lodged.

This morning wet and surly. Sallied, however, by the assistance of a
hired coach, and left cards for Count Pozzo di Borgo, Lord Granville,
our ambassador, and M. Gallois, author of the _History of Venice_.[382]
Found no one at home, not even the old pirate Galignani,[383] at whose
den I ventured to call. Showed my companion the Louvre (which was
closed, unluckily), the front of the palace with its courts, and all
that splendid quarter which the fame of Paris rests upon in security. We
can never do the like in Britain. Royal magnificence can only be
displayed by despotic power. In England, were the most splendid street
or public building to be erected, the matter must be discussed in
Parliament, or perhaps some sturdy cobbler holds out, and refuses to
part with his stall, and the whole plan is disconcerted. Long may such
impediments exist! But then we should conform to circumstances, and
assume in our public works a certain sober simplicity of character,
which should point out that they were dictated by utility rather than
show. The affectation of an expensive style only places us at a
disadvantageous contrast with other nations, and our substitute of brick
and plaster for freestone resembles the mean ambition which displays
Bristol stones in default of diamonds.

We went to theatre in the evening--Comedie Francaise the place,
_Rosemunde_ the piece. It is the composition of a young man with a
promising name--Emile 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 _a 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,