_Paris, February 6, 1803._
The mode of life of the persons with whom I chiefly associate here,
precludes me from reading as much as I could wish, either for
instruction or amusement. This, you will say, I ought not to regret;
for a traveller visits foreign countries to study mankind, not books.
Unquestionably, the men who, like splendid folios in a library, make
at present the most conspicuous figure in this metropolis, are worth
studying; and, could we lay them open to our inspection, as we do
books of a common description, it would be extremely entertaining to
turn them over every morning, till we had them, in a manner, by
heart. But I rather apprehend that they partake, more or less, of the
qualities of a book just come out of the hands of the binder, which
it is difficult to open. Let us therefore content ourselves with
viewing them as we would volumes of a superbly-bound edition, not to
be examined by the general observer, and direct our eyes to such
objects as are fully exposed to investigation.
In Paris, there are several public libraries, the greater part of
them open every day; but that which eclipses all the others, is the