One man made forty guineas by opening his box door and allowing those in the lobbies to take a peep for a guinea apiece. We made an attempt on Saturday to get into the pit, but it was quite impossible. I would not for the world but have been here during the fever, although what many people complain of is very true, that it spoils all conversation and society, and in another day or two I shall be quite tired of the sound or sight of Emperors. The merchants and bankers invited the Emperor to dinner; he said he had no objection if they would promise him it should not exceed three-quarters of an hour, on which Sir William Curtis lifted up his hands and exclaimed, "God bless me!" He is tired to death with the long sittings he is obliged to undergo. The stories of him quite bring one back to the "Arabian Nights," and they could not have chosen a more appropriate ballet for him than "Le Calife Voleur." If he stayed long enough, he might revolutionise the hours of London. I was close to Blücher yesterday, but only saw his back, for I never thought of looking at a man's face who had only a black coat on. You may safely rest in your belief that I do not enjoy anything I see or hear without telling it to you, and you are quite right in your conjecture as to what your feelings would be here. I have thought and said a hundred times what a fever of impatience disappointment, and fatigue you would be in.... You are also right in supposing that you know as much or more of the Emperor than I do, for one has not the time nor the inclination to read what one has the chance of seeing all the day long, and it is so entertaining that I feel it quite impossible to sit quiet and content when you know what is going on. One person meets another: "What are you here for?" "I don't know. What are you expecting to see?" One says the Emperor is gone this way, and another that way, and of all the talking couples or trios that pass you in the street, there are not two where the word "Emperor" or "King" or "Blücher" is not in one, if not both mouths; and all a foxhound's sagacity is necessary to scent him successfully, for he slips round by backways and in plain clothes. _Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria Stanley._ LONDON, _June 17, 1814_. We were in high luck on Sunday in getting a private interview with the Cossacks, through some General of M.'s acquaintance. We saw their horses and the white one, 20 years old, which has carried Platoff[34] through all his engagements. They are small horses with very thick legs. The Cossacks themselves would not open the door of their room till luckily a gentleman who could speak Russian came up, and then we were admitted.