Count Pozzo di Borgo, the Censor-General of the French Press, Villemain, Palissot, author of the ‘Memoirs on French Literature,’ and two or three other persons. The persons present were chiefly of the order of beaux esprits, but no one was so brilliant as the Russian Minister, who has that facility and grace in making epigrammatic remarks, which in French society is valued above all other talent. The little Duchess de Broglie was evidently delighted to an extraordinary degree with his wit, and two or three times, with her enthusiasm and naivete, could not avoid going to her mother's room, to tell her some of the fine things he said. I do not know bow a foreigner has acquired the French genius so completely, . . . . but certainly I have seen nobody yet, who has the genuine French wit, with its peculiar grace and fluency, so completely in his power as M. Pozzo di Borgo;1 and on my saying this to M. Schlegel, he told me there was nobody equal to him but Benjamin Constant.
To Elisha Ticknor.
Paris, May 3, 1817.Well, my dear father and mother, I can now say I am settled down to my occupations in Paris; and, if I am not happy, which you will not be so unreasonable as to expect me to say, I am at least quite contented. The only way I can keep myself quiet is to have so much business on my hands that, between rising in the morning and going to bed at night I have no idle hour or moment for other thoughts; and so I do not fret myself into discontent by thinking about home. I rise at six o'clock. Punctually at seven, every morning, comes my French master,—a young man sent to me by the venerable Le Chevalier, who nearly half a century ago wrote a remarkable book on the ‘Plain of Troy’; he remains with me an hour and a half, to my great profit. When he is gone, I prepare my next lesson for him. At eleven, my Italian master comes,—a man of forty, who is a very fine scholar, not only in his own language and literature, but in the ancient and most of the modern. He remains with me as long as my French teacher, and then I prepare for the next recitation, At one, I lunch; for, as to meals, it is necessary to conform to the hours of the people you are among, and nobody dines in Paris before five,—fashionable people, not till six or seven. At three o'clock, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I have an instructor in the Langue Romane, or, in other words, the transition of