“At an exhibition of manufactures of porcelain, tapestry, etc., in the Louvre, where were some of the most superb specimens of art in the world in these articles, we also saw the Duchesse de Berri.  She is the mother of the little Duc de Bordeaux, who, you know, is the heir apparent to the crown of France.  She was simply habited in a blue pelisse and blue bonnet, and would not be distinguished in her appearance from the crowd except by her attendants in livery.

“I cannot close, however, without telling you what a delightful evening I passed evening before last at General Lafayette’s.  He had a soiree on that night at which there were a number of Americans.  When I went in he instantly recognized me; took me by both hands; said he was expecting to see me in France, having read in the American papers that I had embarked.  He met me apparently with great cordiality, then introduced me to each of his family, to his daughters, to Madame Lasterie and her two daughters (very pretty girls) and to Madame Remusat,[1] and two daughters of his son, G.W.  Lafayette, also very accomplished and beautiful girls.  The General inquired how long I intended to stay in France, and pressed me to come and pass some time at La Grange when I returned from Italy.  General Lafayette looks very well and seems to have the respect of all the best men in France.  At his soiree I saw the celebrated Benjamin Constant, one of the most distinguished of the Liberal party in France.  He is tall and thin with a very fair, white complexion, and long white, silken hair, moving with all the vigor of a young man.”

[Footnote 1:  This was not, of course, the famous Madame de Remusat; probably her daughter-in-law.]

In a letter to his brothers written on the same day, January 7th, he says:—­

“If I went no farther and should now return, what I have already seen and studied would be worth to me all the trouble and expense thus far incurred.  I am more and more satisfied that my expedition was wisely planned.

“You cannot conceive how the cold is felt in Paris, and, indeed, in all France.  Not that their climate is so intensely cold as ours, but their provision against the cold is so bad.  Fuel is excessively high; their fireplaces constructed on the worst possible plan, looking like great ovens dug four or five feet into the wall, wasting a vast deal of heat; and then the doors and windows are far from tight; so that, altogether, Paris in winter is not the most comfortable place in the world.

“Mr. Town and I, and probably Mr. Jocelyn, set out for Italy on Monday by the way of Chalons-sur-Saone, Lyons, Avignon, and Nice.  I long to get to Rome and Naples that I may commence to paint in a warm climate, and so keep warm weather with me to France again....