CHAP. II.
The approach to Paris is certainly very striking, but considering the vast extent of the city, its environs do not present an appearance of any thing like that bustle and activity which marks the vicinity of the British metropolis: nor do the villas which are to the north of Paris display that aspect of opulence which distinguishes those streets of villas by which London is encompassed. The gate of St. Denis, under which we passed, is a fine piece of architecture; it stands at the end of a long and narrow street, which is but ill calculated to impress a stranger with those ideas of the magnificence of Paris of which the French are perpetually boasting, although it conducts him nearly to the centre of the city. I afterwards found that this is the most crowded quarter of the city; the houses are from six to eight stories in height, and are almost universally built of stone.—But although it must be admitted that this entrance to Paris is one of the least distinguished, yet at the same time it must be observed, that there are but very few streets in that city which have much to boast of in point of appearance; they are mostly narrow, and the height of the houses necessarily makes them gloomy. They are (except in one or two new streets at the extremity of the town) extremely incommodious for pedestrians, there being here no place set apart for them as in London; hence they traverse the streets in perpetual dread of being run over by some of those numerous carriages which are continually passing along with animpetuswhich raises just apprehensions in the mind of the foot passenger, that he may share the fate of Doctor Slop, if nothing more serious should befall him; as in avoiding the carriages it is no easy task to keep clear of thekennel, which is in the centre of the street; the descent to it is rapid, and it is rarely dry even in the warmest weather.
It is when seen from one of the bridges, that Paris appears to most advantage, as many of the quays are unquestionably very handsome, and decorated with many elegant edifices. The Seine is in no part so much as half the width of the Thames, in some places not a fourth part, as it forms two islands, on one of which stands the original city of Paris. Its waters are united at thePont Neuf, on which stands the statue of Henry IV. looking towards the Louvre, which he founded. The view from this bridge is without comparison the most striking in Paris, and is perhaps unequalled in any city, for the great number of royal and public edifices which are seen from it; and inconsiderable as is the Seine compared with many other rivers, yet nothing has been neglected to render its banks striking to the passenger.—Many of the bridges (of which I think there are altogether 16) are handsome, particularly those of Austerlitz and of Jena, constructed by order of Buonaparte. There is one bridge, the arches of which are of iron, opposite the gallery of the Louvre, which is open only to foot passengers, each person paying two sous for the privilege of being admitted on this promenade, which is often much crowded with company. Very soon after my arrival at Paris I came to this conclusion, that although Paris far exceeds London, Dublin, or Edinburgh, in the splendour of its public buildings, and often in the handsome appearance of many of its houses, yet those cities are far preferable in point of all essential comforts. And after spending a considerable time in Paris, I saw no reason to change the opinion which I had first formed; that opinion however cannot, I should apprehend, be questioned by a Frenchman, as it admits fully the magnificence of many parts of his favourite city, and this is sufficient for his vanity. With us cleanliness and comfort are preferred to shew, we find them in most of our own cities, but those who know most of Paris will not deny that they are rarely to be met with there.
I had been recommended to the Hotel de Pondicherry, by a gentleman who had for some time lodged there; but I found there were no vacant apartments. After making application in vain at many of the hotels in the Rue de Richelieu, I at last succeeded in meeting with good accommodation in the Hotel des Prouvaires, which was in a convenient situation, and had the advantage of having been lately painted. I found the people of the house very civil and attentive, and produced my passport from the Secretary of States' Office, signed by Lord Castlereagh, to satisfy them that I was noavanturier, a very numerous class here. The expence I found differed but little from, that of most of the hotels in London; but the French hotels are in fact more what we should call lodging-houses, as they do not supply dinners, &c. which must be procured from a restaurateur's, of which there are a vast number; and I have heard it stated, that there are no less than 2500 coffee-houses in Paris.
The population of Paris is stated by Marchant, in the last edition of his Guide to Paris at 580,000; the number of houses is estimated tobe 29,400; this would give an average of nearly twenty persons to each house. This I do not consider as too great a proportion to allow, if we consider the vast number of hotels that can contain at least double that number of persons; and that in many parts of the town each story is occupied (as in Edinburgh) by a separate family.
The population of Paris has undoubtedly decreased since the revolution; Dutens, who published his Itinerary about thirty years ago, tells us, at that period the inhabitants of Paris amounted to 650,000: but even supposing him to have over-rated them, still there remains a great disparity in the two calculations, and it is reasonable to conclude, that the present statement by Marchant is accurate, from the facilities which the system of police affords in forming a just calculation on the subject.
Paris, including all its suburbs, is saidto be about eight leagues in circumference, and, except London and Constantinople, exceeds all the other cities of Europe in extent.
The markets of Paris are remarkably well supplied with provisions of every description, and at a price which appears moderate to an Englishman. I have been told, that fuel is sometimes at a very high price in the winter; but not being there at that season, I cannot speak from my own experience. What I had most reason to complain of during my stay, was scarcity of that great essential to health and cleanliness,good water. The city is for the most part supplied with this first of necessaries from the river Seine. Adjoining to one of the bridges is a vast machine, which raises its waters, which are conducted to all parts of the town, and also supply several public fountains. They have, however, an extremely bad taste from the numerous establishments for washing for all Paris, which are established in boats on all parts of the river, which is thus strongly impregnated with soap-suds, and its cathartic qualities have been experienced by many strangers on their first arrival in Paris.
The French never drink this water without mixing in it a proportion of sugar, and then call iteau sucré, which is often called for at the coffee-houses. Most houses have reservoirs of sand for filtering the water before it is used for drinking; but those who have been accustomed to the luxury of good water, cannot be soon reconciled to that of the Seine. The water of theVille d'Arblayis sold in jars in the streets for making tea, and some of the fountains are supplied by springs. I believe the late government had a scheme in contemplation for the construction of an aqueduct, to supply purer water for the Parisians than what they now use.
Many fountains have been established within the last few years, and the site of that once formidable building theBastileis now occupied by one. None of these modern fountains (although many of them display much taste) are, however, by any means to be compared, in point of elegance, to that which stands in the market of Innocents, and which was erected in the year 1550. Its situation is too confined for so handsome a structure, and I had some difficulty in finding my way to it. It has the following inscription from the pen of M. Santeuil, (who has furnished many others, particularly that on the fountain near the Luxemburg Palace:)
FONTIUM NYMPHIS.
Quos duro cernis simulatos marmore fructus
Hujus Nympha loci credidit esse suos.
Which may be thus translated,
The fruits you see on this cold marble hewn,
This Fountain's Nymph believes to be her own.
The Guide to Paris informs us, that the city is divided into several quarters; that the vicinity of thePalais Royal, of theThuilleries, and of theChaussée d'Antin, are the most fashionable, and of course the most expensive; but that lodgings are to be met with on reasonable terms in parts of the city, which are fully as desirable, particularly in the suburb of St. Germain. There are furnished hotels to be met with on a large scale in that quarter, it having been mostly inhabited by foreign princes and ambassadors; and it was also much frequented by English families, as they considered it the most healthy and quiet part of Paris.
The Quarter du Marais was principally occupied by lawyers, financiers, annuitants; and, in short, all the Jews of the nation lodged there.
The Quarter of the Palais Royal is chiefly inhabited by sharpers, cheats, loungers, and idle people of all descriptions. Who could think that a space of ground not exceeding 150 acres, contains more heterogeneous materials blended together than are to be found in the 9910 acres (the French acre is one and a quarter, English measure) on which the city of Paris stands? It is the great mart of pleasure, of curiosity, and of corruption; and if the police wish to apprehend an offender, it is in the Palais Royal that they are sure to find him. Before the period of the revolution there were here but two public gaming houses; but at present the number is really astonishing. The police under Buonaparte did not discourage their increase; they argued that these houses were therendezvousof all sharpers, villains, and conspirators; and that they often saved an ineffectual search for them in other quarters. A government like that of Buonaparte did not reflect, that these houses, which thus abounded with desperate characters, did not fail to perpetuate their number by the corruption which they caused in the principles of the rising generation; and many of the best informed Frenchmen are well aware that it will be the work of time, to recover their country from thedemoralizedstate in which it was left after the government of Buonaparte.
On the subject of gaming a French writer has justly observed: "Quand il serait vrai que la passion du jeu ne finit pas toujours par le crime, toujours est il constant qu'elle finit par l'infortune et le deshonneur." "Granting it to be true, that the love of gaming does not always terminate in crime, yet still it invariably ends in misfortune and dishonour." But is it not rather improbable that those who have so far transgressed as to apprehend the vigilance of the police, should venture into the very places where they must be aware of immediate detection?
Perhaps the same argument holds in Paris as in London, against totally suppressing the haunts of these depredators on society,That if there were no thieves there would be no thief-takers; and the police are content to keep within moderate bounds, a set of men who often contribute to their emolument, and whom they fear to exterminate. It must, however, be allowed, that in all large towns, however great may be the vigilance of the police, there still must be abundance of the followers ofMacheath. Perhaps Paris most abounds in sharpers who cheat withfinesse, and London in the number of pick-pockets and robbers. Thenightly policeof Paris is admirably conducted; and during my stay there I never experienced the smallest molestation in the streets.
The Palais Royal consists of six squares, the chief of which is large and handsomely built on piazzas. There are rows of trees in the centre, but they by no means contribute to its beauty.
The shops under these arcades are many of them the most shewy in Paris; and, as the owners pay a heavy rent for them, they take care to enhance the price of their goods, so as not to carry on a losing concern. The number of coffee-houses and restaurateurs for dining, in this square are very numerous, and most of them are by no means moderate in their prices, at least when we compare them with others in a different part of Paris, or even near the Palais Royal; but it is not under these piazzas that economy is to be practised. TheCafé de Foiis one of the most celebrated for newspapers and politicians; but one is considered as having seen nothing of themanners of the place, if theCafé des Aveuglesis not visited. This is situated under the Italian Coffee-house, andhas its name from the large orchestra which performs here continually, being composed wholly of blind persons. I visited this place with a friend for a few moments after its opening, which is never till five o'clock in the afternoon, as its frequenters tolerate only the light of candles.
The subterranean situation of this apartment renders it difficult of ventilation; and the noise of the musicians and their audience contending for the supremacy, added to the extraordinary heat of the place and the density of the air, occasioned us to make a speedy retreat to what, after leaving such a place, might be considered as a pure atmosphere.
Often as the Palais Royal has been described, and forcibly as the scenes which it exhibits have been depicted, yet I confess I do not think the descriptions I have read of it by any means overcharged; and it may be safely affirmed that there is no place in the world where the scene varies so often in the twenty-four hours as it does here. I was attracted by a notice, that the English newspapers were taken in at the Cabinet Littéraire of M. Rosa; and, having paid my subscription, was conducted into a spacious reading room, exclusively for the English papers. The love of news is at all times natural; but at a distance from home the mind is doubly anxious for the details of what is going on there, and attaches an interest to particulars which, under other circumstances, it would consider as too trivial to be worthy of attention. During my stay on the Continent, I felt very forcibly the truth of Dr. Johnson's observation, "that it is difficult to conceive how man can exist without a newspaper." I was, however, for a considerable time,forcedto be satisfied with the French papers, the expence of the English being so great, as to cause them to be seldom taken in abroad; and after my departure from Paris, I saw no English paper until my arrival at Frankfort, an interval of above two months.
If the pedestrian is exposed to many inconveniences and dangers in the streets of Paris, yet intricate as they often are, he is seldom in danger of going far out of his way, if he attends to the manner in which the names of the streets are coloured, those leading to the river being lettered in black, and those parallel to, or not leading directly to it, in red. The quays form the most prominent feature in Paris, and when arrived there, he can experience little difficulty in finding the road he desires. The mode of numbering the houses in Paris differs from that used with us, all the odd numbers being on one aide the street, and the even numbers on the other.
After having seen the Palais Royal, my attention was next attracted by the Palace of the Tuilleries (so called from the circumstance of tiles having been formerly made on the spot where it stands). This is a vast and magnificent building, extending in front next the gardens 168 toises (about 1050 feet English measure). The gardens were laid out byLe Nôitre, and exhibit a specimen of the taste of that time, abounding in statues, avenues, and water-works; but it must at the same time be admitted, that the general effect produced is not devoid of magnificence, which is heightened by the communication between these gardens and the Champs Elysées, which forms a vista of great length, and when illuminated, thecoup d'œilmust be really superb. On the side of the gardens next the river, is a terrace considerably elevated, which commands a view well deserving the praise which has been bestowed on it. This was the usual promenade of Buonaparte, who caused a subterranean communication to be formed between it and the Palace, to avoid passing through those parts of the garden which were open to the public, who, during his promenade, were excluded from the terrace. The Parisians did not like this exclusion, and used to say, on seeing his Majesty, "See, the lion is come out of his den." This terrace was also the constant walk of the ex-Empress and her son. I was told, that shortly after Buonaparte's installation as Emperor, the people, to mark their disapprobation of the dignity which he had assumed, entirely deserted the gardens of this palace, which had always been their favourite walk in the evenings; and that, being hurt at this, the Emperor ordered one of his military bands to play here every evening. The scheme succeeded; the attraction being too great for the Parisians to resist, and the gardens were more frequented than ever.
The other front of the Tuilleries looks towards the Place du Carousel, from which it is separated by a lofty iron balustrade, the top of which is gilt. Opposite the centre entrance of the Palace stands a magnificent triumphal arch, erected by Buonaparte, on the top of which he has placed the four celebratedbronze horses, which were removed to Paris on the seizure of Venice by his army, as they had been formerly transported by conquest from Corinth to Constantinople, and thence to Venice, where they adorned for several centuries the Place of St. Mark. These horses are conducted by two figures of Victory, and Peace, executed by M. Sencot, which many admire extremely.
Buonaparte has been no badlocumtenensof this palace for the Bourbons, as it bears abundant testimony to the taste with which he caused it to be decorated. He had the entire of the Louvrescratched, so as to give it quite a new appearance, and his crown and initials are everywhere to be seen.On the grandfaçadewas an inscription, signifying, "thatNapoleon the Great had completed what Henry the Fourth had begun;" but this inscription has disappeared, since the return of the descendants of Henry IV. to the palace which that great king had built, and which an usurper endeavoured to persuade posterity he had a share in constructing. It is worthy of remark, that this chef d'œuvre of architecture, as if has always been considered, was not the work of a professed architect, but of M. Perrault, a physician. The word Louvre is, by some, derived from the SaxonLouvar, signifying a castle.
Buonaparte's plans for the further improvement of this palace were on the most extensive scale imaginable, as he intended to remove all the buildings situated between the Louvre and the Tuilleries; and some idea of the extent of the proposed area may be formed, when it is considered that, in its present state, the placedu Carouselis sufficiently capacious to admit of 15,000 men being drawn up there in battle array. Whilst I remained at Paris, a considerable number of workmen were engaged in carrying on these improvements, but it is probable, from the exhausted state in which the projector of these undertakings has left the finances of France, that it will be many years before it will be possible to complete them.
CHAP. III.
If the stranger at Paris is struck by the magnificent appearance which the exterior of the Louvre presents, he cannot fail of being delighted with an inspection of the contents of its invaluable Museum. This, like nearly all the museums and libraries in Paris, is open toevery individual, except on the days appropriated for study, when onlyartistsare admitted; but even then, a stranger, whose stay is limited, may be admitted on producing hispassport, a regulation which is highly commendable for its liberality; and at none of these repositories are the attendants permitted to lay any contributions on the visitants. The gallery of the Louvre was built by Henry IV. to join that palace with the Tuilleries, from which it was formerly separated, by the walls which surrounded Paris. This vast gallery istwo hundred toisesin length (not a great deal short of a quarter of an English mile); the collection of works of art here in without any parallel, as in this place are assembled most of the finest paintings and statues in the world, which the most indifferent must survey with admiration. But at the same time, it is impossible not to feel a portion of regret at the causes which have robbed Italy of those monuments, which its inhabitants so well knew how to appreciate, and for many of which they entertained a religious veneration, as the ornaments of their churches.
The French, as far as I am able to judge, do not (in general) possess any such feeling of sensibility, and merely value thesechefs d'œuvrebecause their merit is allowed to beincontestable, and because their vanity is flattered, in seeing them thus collected by their victories as an additional attraction for strangers to visit their capital.
But Italy, although thus despoiled of so many of her ornaments, will still have many and great attractions for the man of taste; her buildings exhibit the finest specimens of art that are any where remaining; and those possessed of a classic genius will always behold with delight the scenes celebrated by a Horace or a Virgil. The paintings in this gallery exceed 1200 in number; they are divided into three classes, the first contains the French school, the second theGerman, and the third the Italian. Catalogues and descriptions of the paintings may be had at the doors. I often visited this gallery, and always with increased admiration. I shall not attempt to enter into any details as to the respective excellence of the different paintings. Volumes have been written on the subject, and my testimony could add nothing to excellence which is acknowledged by all—by those who have not seen, on the reports of those who have visited this splendid assemblage, who, having seen, have not failed to admire, and to give currency to their admiration. The following lines on Raphael, will be readily admitted as justby those who have seen some of his sublime pictures:
Hic ille est Raphael, timuit quo sospite vinci,
Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori.
Here Raphael lies, who could with nature vie,
To him she feared to yield, with him to die.
Although I thought my admiration had been so largely called forth by the pictures I had just visited, as to have been almost exhausted, yet the distinguished excellence of the statues did not fail to rekindle it; and indeed it is impossible it should have been otherwise, when surrounded by such admirable specimens of art.—The number bears its due proportion to that of the pictures, and the same reasons which induced me to say little of them, will prevent my dilating on the excellence of the statues—
Et la meilleure chose, on la gâte souvent.
Pour la vouloir outrer, et pousser trop avant.
I must, however, observe, that here are assembled the three finest statues in the world, theLaocoon, theVenusde Clomene, from the collection of the Medici family, and theApolloBelvidere, which was found amongst the ruins of Antrum, about the end of the 15th century; and eveu in imagining the most perfect nature, it is difficult to form an idea of such perfection as is here exhibited; but much as I admired the Apollo, I was yet more delighted by contemplating the excellence displayed in the graceful figure of the Venus.
The gallery of paintings at the palace of the Luxemburg (which is now called the palace of the Peers of France, as they sit at present in the hall, formerly occupied by Buonaparte's Conservative Senate) although vastly inferior to that at the Louvre, both as to the number, and value of the collection it contains; yet it is well worthy the attention of the stranger, and the circumstance of its not being too crowded is favourable to the visitant, whose attention is not so much divided here as by the attractions of the greater collection, where he is often at a loss which way he shall turn. Here are statues of Bacchus and Ariadne. The gallery of Rubens contains twenty-one pictures by that great master, representing the history of Mary of Medicis; it also contains his Judgment of Paris. The gallery of Vernet contains a series of views of the principal sea-ports of France, by that painter, and also Poussin's picture of the Adoration of the Magi. Here are also two celebrated pictures by that great modern painter, David—Brutus after having condemned his Son, and the Oath of the Horatii, which appeared to me worthy of the favourable report I had before heard of them.
This palace has a spacious and handsome garden; the front of Queen's College, Oxford, is an imitation on a reduced scale of its façade to the street.
After the paintings, I next inquired after the Libraries which Paris contains; these are very numerous, but as I had so much to see, I contented myself with visiting the two principal ones, first, the royal library, Rue Richelieu. This contains the library of Petrarch, which alone would render it an object of curiosity. Here are also the globes of the JesuitCoronelli, which are upwards of thirty-four feet in circumference. The Cabinet of Antiquities contains the collection of Count Caylus. The number of printed volumes is stated to amount to 350,000. The manuscripts are not less than 72,000. Here is also a vast and very valuable collection of medals, and about 5000 engravings. All persons are permitted to read here from ten until two o'clock.
The second Library which I visited was one which formerly belonged to that celebrated Minister, Cardinal Mazarin, and is now in the Palais des Beaux Arts, on the opposite side of the river from the Louvre. This collection consists of 60,000 volumes, amongst which are many works of great value.
If the traveller sees much to interest him, and much to admire during the course of his tour, it is natural that he should occasionally meet with disappointment; and I must confess that in the Metropolitan Church of Notre Dame, I saw little worthy of that praise which is lavished on it by the French; it is only venerable from its antiquity, being one of the most ancient Christian churches in Europe.—In point of architecture, and the general appearance of the exterior, it yields to any of the cathedrals, and to very many of the parish churches in England. The interior is mean in the extreme (the High Altar only excepted;) the body of the church being entirely filled up with the commonest rush bottomed chairs, and not kept in any tolerable order. But the most splendid church in Paris is unquestionably that of St. Sulpice, which is also one of the most striking buildings in the metropolis, notwithstanding the dissimilitude of the two towers of its grand Western front.
The Pantheon is not very different as to its general appearance from the last mentioned church. This edifice has cost already vast sums, but is not considered as completed. I saw during my stay at Paris most of thechurches which it contains, and was in general disappointed with their appearance. The church of St. Roque is the handsomest after that of St. Sulpice. There is a Protestant church in the Rue St. Honoré, called L'Oratoire. Bossuet said of this congregation, "It is a body where all obey, and where no one commands."—Adjoining to this church is a very small chapel, where since the peace the service has been performed according to the form of the church of England. I attended here the Sunday after my arrival in Paris, and found the congregation consisted of about 40 persons, and at first sight one could not have supposed they were all British subjects, so completely had the ladies adopted thegreat hat, and the other peculiarities of the Frenchton.
Still one sees in the streets and public places several who do not desire to be thought French subjects, and who persist in wearing the much-abused habits of their own country.
There have been many disputes respecting the number of English actuallyin Paris; I have no doubt it has been extremely exaggerated. I saw, at my bankers, Messrs. Perregeaux & Co. a list of all those who had credit with them, which was less considerable by half at least than report had stated.
In the Place Vendôme stands a truly magnificent column (copied from that of Trajan at Rome) to commemorate the victories of Buonaparte, and his army in Germany. The execution of thebas reliefsreflects credit on the state of sculpture in France, and cannot fail to claim the approbation of the beholder.
On the top of the column stood a colossal statue of Buonaparte; this, like the other statues of that modernSejanus, has disappeared since the downfall of his empire, and the return of the ancient dynasty has caused to be placed on its summit the white flag, formerly so much venerated by the French.
I set out at an early hour to go over the celebrated Gobelin manufactory in the Rue Mouffetard, the proprietor of which is extremely civil to strangers, and permits them to see his premises from ten till one o'clock, and they are well worthy of attention. The name of this manufactory is derived from its founder Gille Gobelin, originally from Rheims, who settled here in 1450.—I was also the same day much pleased with surveying the Stereotype press of that famous printerDidot, whose editions of various authors are in such esteem amongst judges of the art.
In the Place des Victoires, I observed an enormous statue of General Dessaix, on the site formerly occupied by one of Lewis XIV. (I have been informed, that about two months after my departure from Paris, this statue has been removed to a foundery, where byfusion, it may perhaps assume the appearance of a Bourbon.)—The Great Bureau of the Post, where only foreign letters can befranked, that is postpaid by those who send them (without which they are not forwarded) is in the Rue J.J. Rousseau, whose name was given to this street, from his having for some time occupied an attic story in it.
The Botanic Garden (Jardin des Plantes) being open to the public only on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and its situation being at the farthest extremity of Paris from my hotel, I set out as early as possible to view it with the attention it deserved. It is on a very great scale, and contains about 7000 plants, arranged according to the scientific method of M. Jussieu. The Library I did not see, but the Museum and the Menagerie are on the most extensive scale, and accounts have been published of their curiosities.—Being fatigued withseeing the Lions, I sat down to rest for a short time on a vacant seat in the garden; but presently two elderly ladies came to the same place, and lamented in themost expressive termsthe loss of a favourite dog; the lady who had lost it, said it was theonly consolationshe had, that it was absolutelynecessary to love something, and that she felt most miserable at her loss.
This concern for the loss of a dog appeared to me much more natural, than the delight with which some virtuosos, whom I observed in the Museum, contemplated many of the specimens preserved there. The French have a greatlatitude of expression, being naturally an extremely lively people; but certainly not so much so as formerly. I recollect some years ago being much amused by an anecdote, related by the late Dr. Moore, in his "View of the State of Society and Manners in France, Italy, and Germany." The Doctor was informed by a French gentleman of his acquaintance, with that vivacity which distinguishes his nation, that he had just then received a final dismissal from a lady, who had for some time appeared to favour his addresses, and that he was absolutely indespair. Dr. Moore, who, from the vivacity of his friend's manners, had no idea that any thing had happened that seriously distressed him, answered, that he thought him the merriest person he had ever seen in such a situation. The other immediately replied, "but you English have such an idea of despair!"
The various revolutions of the last twenty-five years have doubtless contributed, in no small degree, to diminish much of that gaiety, which formerly distinguished the French from most other nations, and which formed one of their chief characteristics.
Under the late government reserve was positivelynecessary, so numerous were the emissaries of the police, and so anxious were they to report the most trifling circumstances to their employer, that they might convince him how very necessary they were to the furtherance of his government. In those unhappy times every man mistrusted his neighbour, fearing he might be concerned in one of theeighteen police establishmentssupported by the mistrust of the emperor in the affections of his subjects. TheConscription Laws, and the right which Buonaparte assumed ofdisposing in marriage all ladiespossessed of a certain income, as a measure of rewarding the services of his officers, and which violated the closest connexions and best interests of society; together with his system offorced loans, which entirely destroyed the rights ofprivate property, did not leave his subjects many incitements to mirth—although it was dangerous to appear dejected. "The Voyage Descriptif et Philosophique de Paris, par L—— P——," contains the following remarks, the truth of which renders them interesting, and I shall therefore translate them, for the information of those who may chance to peruse these pages. The author observes, "An air of inquietude has succeeded that openness and sociability, which so much distinguished the French. Their serious air announces that most people are considering the amount of their debts, and are always put to expedients. One guesses, that in a company of thirty at least twenty-four are revolving the means of acquiring wealth; and notwithstanding twenty are without it." I shall quote in conclusion what the same writer says of the Parisian, and which strikes me as a correct statement. "The Parisian is in general tolerably indifferent as to his political situation; he is never wholly enslaved, never free. He repels cannon by puns, and links together power and despotism by witty epigrams. He quickly forgets the misfortunes of the preceding day; he keeps no diary of grievances, and one might say, he has sufficient confidence in himself not to dread too absolute a despotism. It is to be hoped, that the happy restoration of the Bourbons will restore to the Parisian his gaiety, and that Louis XVIII. the legitimate father of the French, will cause all former political convulsions to be forgotten."
The Parisians are distinguished by their loquacity. Having occasion to employ a hair-cutter, I was quite stunned by his volubility of tongue.King Archelauswould find it difficult to be suited here; for being asked how he would have his hair cut, he answered—"silently."
After many ineffectual attempts, I at last succeeded in satisfying my curiosity by seeing the assembly of the Legislative Body. The building is one of the greatest ornaments of which Paris can boast; it was chiefly the work of Buonaparte, who was satisfied to lodge these gentlemen in a palace, provided they did not interfere in the government of their country. I was not gratified in proportion to the trouble I had in getting into the hall, by the short and uninteresting debate which ensued. This House was occupied during the greatest part of my stay in Paris in discussing the forms proper to be observed when the king meets the peers and commons.
The deputies object, that the king should himself desire the peers to be seated, and that they should only receive that permission through the medium of the chancellor: how the point has been decided, I have not been since informed.
The weather was intensely hot during part of my stay at Paris, the quicksilver being occasionally at 26° Réaumur, equal to 90° of Fahrenheit's scale, and the sky without a cloud, there not being, in general, such a cloud of smoke over Paris as generally obscures the atmosphere of London. Yet, I believe, the best accounts allow that London is to the full as healthy a city as Paris, and if cleanliness is conducive to health the point can admit of little doubt. During part of this oppressive weather, I used generally to resort, about mid-day, to the gallery of the Louvre, being anxious to take every opportunity of contemplating its superb collection of the works of art. There, notwithstanding the number of visitors, the marble floors and ventilators rendered the air much more cool than it was out ofdoors. I generally set out on my rambles through the city at as early an hour as custom would permit, and in the evening, often joined the pedestrians in the gardens of the Tuilleries, which were always thronged with company of all descriptions. There are a vast number of chairs under the trees, and their proprietors demand one or two sous for the right of sitting in them. I have been assured that this inconsiderable charge procures a total by no means contemptible.
I sometimes extended my walk into the Champs Elysées, which extend a long way beyond the Place de Louis XV. Its avenues are lighted like the streets of Paris, by lanthorns, suspended across them by ropes and pulleys, which give a stronger light than our lamps, but do not seem equally secure. At the end of the centre avenue, which runs in a straight line from the grand entrance to the Tuilleries, Buonaparte had lately begun a triumphal arch to commemorate the victories of his armies; and still further, exactly opposite the bridge of Jena, he caused a vast number of houses to be destroyed, to make way for a projected palace for the King of Rome. The foundations only of this edifice had been laid before the overthrow of Buonaparte, and this large plot of ground now presents a scene of waste and desolation.
The present government, which will not prosecute so expensive and useless an undertaking, will still have to make compensation to the owners of the buildings of which only the ruins remain.
The quarter of St. Antoine is celebrated in the annals of the Revolution; and, indeed, there are but few parts of Paris, which do not recall to one's mind some of those scenes so disgraceful to humanity of which it was the great theatre. The Place Royale in this district is only remarkable, for having been built by Henry IV.: it forms a square with a small garden in the centre, but has long ceased to be a fashionable residence. In Paris there are no squares similar in plan to those in London, but occasionally one sees places formed by the junction of streets, &c. The town-house is a large, and as I think, a tasteless Gothic edifice; and in the Place de Grève stood that guillotine which deprived such incredible multitudes of their lives. At one period of the Revolution every successful faction in turn, endeavoured, as it should seem, to exterminate its enemies, when it succeeded in possessing itself of the supreme power, which then chiefly consisted in the command of this formidable instrument; and these successive tyrants, likeSylla, were often in doubtwhom they should permit still to remain alive.
I do not know that the invention of theguillotine, is to be ascribed to the ingenuity of the French, but they will for ever remain obnoxious to the charge of the most dreadful abuse of it. I have heard it stated that, so late as the reigns of Elizabeth, and James the First, an instrument similar to the guillotine, was used for the execution of offenders in the vicinity of Hardwicke Forest, in Yorkshire.
TheBoulevardsare now merely very spacious streets, with avenues of trees at the sides, but formerly they were the boundaries of the city. They form a fashionable promenade for the Parisians, and abound with horsemen and carriages more than any other quarter of the town. Along the Boulevard Poissonnier are some of the handsomest houses in Paris. I dined with a family in one of them which commands a very cheerful scene. There are here, as in the Palais Royal, a vast number of coffee-houses, billiard-tables, and restaurateurs. The price of a dinner differs little from what is usually paid in London, but bread is about half the price, and there is a great saving in the charge for wine, with this additional advantage, that it is generally of much better quality than can be met with in London for double the price; as the heavy duties on importing French wines necessarily induces their adulteration. A stranger toFrench manners, is surprised at seeing ladies of respectability frequenting coffee-houses and taverns, which they do as matter of course;—so powerful are the habits in which we have been educated.
After the Boulevards, the Rue Royale and the Rue de Rivoli are the handsomest in Paris. The last named is far from being completed, and runs in a line, facing the gardens of the Tuilleries; in these two streets there is a division to protect foot passengers, but they are not flagged.
CHAP. IV.
The Royal Hotel of the Invalids, is one of the principal establishments in Paris, which claims the attention of the stranger, and I accordingly went to view it with a party of friends. The principal court has just resumed the title ofRoyal, but we could easily distinguish that it had been a few months since dignified by that ofImperial. Indeed, all over Paris, this change is very perceptible. The last letters are often in the old gilding, and the first part of the style only altered, as the French do not, in general, like to domore than is necessary, and but seldomcondemna house, but continue to patch it up in some manner, so as to make it last a little longer, which accounts for the appearance of antiquity which generally distinguishes their towns.
But to return to the Invalids. The establishment is said to be calculated to accommodate 5000 men; but we found upon inquiry, that the number then actually maintained did not exceed 3600. As it was their dinner hour, we went into their refectory; each man has a pint of thevin ordinaire, (the general price of which is from ten to twenty sous the bottle;) but I doubt whether it would be received as a substitute for malt liquor either at Chelsea or Kilmainham. The church of this establishment, is one of the most splendid in the capital. The ex-Emperor caused monuments to be erected here to Vauban and Turenne. The latter, by a special mark of the favour of Lewis XIV. had been interred in the royal vault at St. Denis; but his remains now rest here; and the monument is worthy of so distinguished a general. That to Vauban, on the opposite side, is by no means equally elegant.
The elevation of the dome of this church, exceeds that of any other building in Paris; and the French boast, that it rises to a greater height than St. Paul's Cathedral in London; but this I do not think is the case, although the point is of little moment. M. Dutens gives us the following scale of the comparative elevation of some of the highest buildings in the world.
Toisei