[382] There were two well-known Frenchmen of this name at the time of Scott’s visit to Paris:  (1) Jean-Antoine-Gauvain Gallois, who was born about 1755 and died in 1828; (2) Charles-Andre-Gustave-Leonard Gallois, born 1789, died 1851.  It was the latter of these who translated from the Italian of Colletta Cinq jours de l’histoire de Naples, 8vo, Paris, 1820.  But at this date he was only thirty-seven, and it can scarcely be of him that Scott writes (p. 288) as an “elderly” man.  The probability is that it was the elder Gallois whom Scott saw, and that he ascribed to him, though the title is misquoted, a work written by the younger.

[383] “When he was in Paris,” Hazlitt writes, “and went to Galignani’s, he sat down in an outer room to look at some book he wanted to see; none of the clerks had the least suspicion who he was.  When it was found out, the place was in a commotion.”—­From Mr. Alexander Ireland’s excellent Selections from Hazlitt’s writings, 8vo, Lond. 1889, p. 482.

[384] Ivanhoe might have borne a motto somewhat analogous to the inscription which Frederick the Great’s predecessor used to affix to his attempts at portrait-painting when he had the gout:  “Fredericus I. in tormentis pinxit.”—­Recollections of Sir Walter Scott, p. 240.  Lond. 1837.

NOVEMBER

November 1.—­I suppose the ravishing is going to begin, for we have had the Dames des Halles, with a bouquet like a maypole, and a speech full of honey and oil, which cost me ten francs; also a small worshipper, who would not leave his name, but came seulement pour avoir le plaisir, la felicite etc. etc.  All this jargon I answer with corresponding blarney of my own, for “have I not licked the black stone of that ancient castle?” As to French, I speak it as it comes, and like Doeg in Absalom and Achitophel—­

    “——­dash on through thick and thin,
    Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in.”

We went this morning with M. Gallois to the Church of St. Genevieve, and thence to the College Henri IV., where I saw once more my old friend Chevalier.[385] He was unwell, swathed in a turban of nightcaps and a multiplicity of robes de chambre; but he had all the heart and the vivacity of former times.  I was truly glad to see the kind old man.  We were unlucky in our day for sights, this being a high festival—­All Souls’ Day.  We were not allowed to scale the steeple of St. Genevieve, neither could we see the animals at the Jardin des Plantes, who, though they have no souls, it is supposed, and no interest of course in the devotions of the day, observe it in strict retreat, like the nuns of Kilkenny.  I met, however, one lioness walking at large in the Jardin, and was introduced.  This was Madame de Souza,[386] the authoress of some well-known French romances of a very classical character, I am