< ^soc ;7 f^^^^X^^^«5 -<^ <3src.0-l— - UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 4E p -V. 4T<"c r/-~^? ■ .gg~ - ^S^g^^C^ r * ~ - s^- ■T'f _>^^' ' <-.; ss -^L/^cr - ^ SiLV. «^ ^C~' : " <-_ 4_*s ■8=- » ' « c: as the French ex- pressed it. Our light cavalry could not be well supposed capable of resisting the momentum ; and, in fact, the cuirassiers gained the plateau, and there dis- covered our infantry in squares ; they thus became, c 18 PARIS. as I may say, implicated in the front of the fight, and there were no means afterwards of withdraw- ing them. They found, however, the squares to be of cast iron, no simple hammering would make them malleable. Those brave men did, however, all that lay in their power, they returned over and over again to the charge ; so often, indeed, that their faces individually became familiar to our men, who used to say, " here comes the jokers in the steel jackets again." Many old soldiers in the rear-rank, w T ho had taken steady and deliberate aim at their mounted enemies, within 20 or 30 yards, were extremely surprised to see them still keep their seats on horseback; and the morning after the battle, they set up some of the bodies of these jokers that had been shot in the head, or sabred, to ascertain whether they were actually fire-proof. They did not recollect, that the man being in motion, the slightest angle of the cuirass would cause the ball to deflect. The cuirassiers were always on former occasions kept in hand, to act in the crisis of a battle; and when infantry were shaken by fire of artillery, or from other cause, their charge must indeed have PARIS. 1 9 been most formidable ; at Waterloo their force was rendered nugatory, from being applied at the wrong time. Ney did everything he could to repair the error, and fought on foot with the infantry of the guard with all the courage of a devoted soldier, but it was too late. In a French account I have seen of the battle it says, that taking away Grouchy's corps, and sub- tracting the division that was placed en pote?ice, to oppose the advance of Bulow on the right, there were only 40,000 men opposed to the British line towards the close of the action. He ought to have added, that, at the commencement of the action the day before, there were not more than 30,000 British soldiers in line, diminished vastly in numbers at the period he alludes to, and that at least one half of these were young and untried combatants, who were in fire for the first time. I have been only induced to make these remarks, because I have not seen, in any of our own accounts, allusion to the early employment of the enemy's ca- valry* With regard to all other points, they have already been most amply discussed in descriptions of the different phases and crisis of the battle, and minu- 20 PARIS. tise of particular movements. There are data suffi- cient in the hands of a competent person, to supply an historical record of Waterloo, superior to that of any other previous battle noted in history. The ac- counts alluded to, generally terminate with the action, leaving the subsequent events free for other descriptions. It may not, therefore, be thought impertinent if I should make a few remarks v on the advance to Paris, and the state of the capital during its occupation. In the first instance, I do not mean to give a diary of marches, &c, but merely to note incidents which I witnessed, particularly as regards some angry re- marks made by the Prussian General, Van Groll- man, in commenting on the Duke of Wellington's evidence before the committee of military inquiry; and, in the second place, to state the impression made on my own mind by the stirring picture the capital afforded at that time. 1 have since been frequently in Paris, which has given me opportuni- ties to correct any very erroneous impressions re- ceived in the first instance, and to add a few remarks that may serve for all times. The Spaniards say, that " he who has not seen PARIS. 21 Seville, has seen nothing." I may say in a more restricted sense, that those who did not see Paris in 18 15, can scarcely form an idea of the manifold attrac- tions it then held out, particularly to Englishmen. Independent of the excitement occasioned in the army by the course of current events, no one, with any military knowledge of history, could pass un- moved over, what Mr, Shandy calls, " the prize fighting stage of Flanders," and either see, or be in the vicinity of such places of ?nark 9 without plea- surable feelings. The names of Mons, Tournay, Oudenarde, Ath, Namur, Lille, Valenciennes, and Maubeuge, " were as familiar in our mouths, as household words," and the view of some of them, brought back vividly the imagination to the wars of the good old times, when the armies waited to take the field until there was sufficient grass to feed the horses, and then sate down before some of these fortresses, encamped in the neighbourhood, to see how things went on ; and now and then had a battle with some impertinent intruder, who came to interrupt their amusements. The dispatches used to bring accounts about investments, (not in the consols,) circum ; and contra- vallation, zig-zag 22 PARIS. approaches, sap and flying ditto, mines and counter mines, storming of covert ways, breaching batteries, passage of ditches, and forlorn hopes, finally, the capitulation, and formation of the new garrison. The army then, like a sensible army, went into win- ter quarters, and amused itself with balls, billiards, cards, and softer approaches, until the grass grew again- Ces belles Villes> like other Belles^ have become neglected in their antiquity, and even the phrase- ology of their flirtations which I have quoted, has nearly become obsolete. They are treated with something little short of downright rudeness ; in place of whole armies looking on to witness their surrender, these dowagers are, in military slang, said to be turned, which is nothing more or less than giving them the " dead cut." The only notice taken of these fortresses, was either to starve them by blockade, or keep them awake by bombardment, and to these base uses, had fallen the once proud places of Lille, Valenciennes, and Maubeuge. Shades of Vauban, and Cohorn, is it thus that your sublime arts are treated ? The only exceptions were the assaults of Cambray and Peronne, by the PARIS. 23 British ; and St. Quentin and the Castle of Guise, by the Prussians. The British and Prussian armies passed the French frontier at different points, leaving between them Maubeuge and Quesney, and, on the right of our army, Valenciennes and Lille. Quesney surrendered to a division under Prince Frederick of Orange, the other places were blockaded by the Belgians, troops of Nassau, and some British regiments, with our heavy artillery ; they did not surrender till some time after Paris had capitulated. The plan adopted in the Peninsula, of leaving a British officer as commandant in each town of any consequence, was also put in practice here. This office at Mons could have been no sinecure, as it was the general debouche of all the troops, and subsequent reinforcements, marching to the French frontier ; it was Mons parturiens, but the produce was rather more mischievous than mice. Between that place and Bavay, the first tow T n in France, we passed over part of the field of battle of Malplaquet, which of course brought its recollections with it. Certainly it is as pretty a piece of fighting ground as one would wish to see " of a summer's day." 24 PARIS. Pity that nations cannot settle their quarrels as in- dividuals, ten thousand men on each side, and have "a ring formed ;" — this would exactly be the spot to fight it out. The amusement on the march from Bavay was " castle building," not quite so far off as Spain, but to decide the problem whether Paris would capitulate, or stand an assault. The latter seemed to be the general wish, and every sort of speculation was broached. One man said he would make a push for the Bank of France ; another had taken the Treasury under his protection ; a third, who did not approve of a paper currency, declared lie would patronize the Mint ; while a fourth, not quite so ambitious, said, he would be satisfied by rummaging the shops of the money changers and jewellers in the Palais Royal, and if he found the crowd too great there, he would adjourn to the medals in the King's library. I have already said that Cambray was taken by escalade, and the citadel surrendered shortly after- wards to Louis the 18th, who made his entry there on the 26th June. I dare say the natives were well pleased with this sort of caption, as a ten-inch shell would have been an awkward customer PARIS. 25 amongst their webs of fine cambric. There was not much to remark at Bonavy, or Fins, but the approach to Peronne caused some interest. From its never having being captured previously, it had obtained, and preserved for a long time, the title of Peronne la pucelle ; a brigade of guards attacked and carried the horn work, and the place surren- dered directly. The phrase is sometimes made use of, " to take the bull by the horns/' more frequently in metaphor than actually by fact; but taking a maid by the horns, either in reality, or in a figurative sense, is certainly "something new, under the sun." I was quartered at a farm house about a mile from Peronne, towards the east. The Prussians had marched on a parallel route, but had sent their feelers in this direction. There were only in the house an old woman and the farmer himself. He took me round his now empty yard, told me that the Prussians had taken all his horses, three cows, and four hundred head of poultry. Some sheep that had been out in a distant field had escaped, and, with an air of mystery, he showed me where they were ; concealed in a small out house, crammed in together in a hot summer day, with all their wool 26 PARIS. on, it must have been a sheepish black-hole of Calcutta. Our men had gone into the large barn allotted for them, and were " shaking the dust off their shoes;" I had also gone up stairs to perform my own ablutions, when my landlord came running up, exclaiming, " Ah 9 Monsieur, Voila les Prussiens encore" I put on my coat and descended, expect- ing to find a detachment drawn up, but it was only a brace of hussars. They rode into the yard with- out seeing any one, and were evidently surprised at the appearance of a red coat. One of them who could speak a little French, said that it was a patrole in search of deserters. I looked to see if the spokes- man had any chevron or mark of authority, which he had not, and I immediately, for patroles, read pat- rogues, come for plunder. I said there were no deserters there, and that they need not stay ; they marched off with very bad grace, to the great de- light of the farmer, who had begun to tremble for his woolly friends in the black hole. The Prussians, as I said before, had been march- ing on the road from Maubeuge to Laon, but they edged down towards our line, and a little beyond PARIS, 27 Peronne we came on their track, which no one could mistake ; window shutters and doors thrown off the hinges, the glass broken, the beds ripped up, papers and clothes torn in fragments, and all the marks attending the progress of an unbridled sol- diery, while nothing four-footed was left in the place, except the dogs. At Conchy les Pots, they had even taken away the post horses, and se- veral travellers were becalmed in consequence. I believe Louis the ISth was detained here for some time on that account. The appearance of les postillions desoeuvres brought to my recollection some lines of (I think) Peter Pindar, pitying the barbers on account of Mr. Pitt's tax on hair powder, which w 7 ould apply by substi- tuting postillions for hair dressers — "See groupes of postillions idly stand, A melancholy, mute, and mournful band." A row of empty jack boots standing along the wall looked as sad as their occasional occupiers. If their irregularities are winked at, all soldiers are, I believe, very much alike; " give them an inch, and they will take an ell." The relaxation of dis- cipline must, therefore, be entirely the fault of the officers, and the Prussian officers must have stood by 28 PARIS. and witnessed what I have related. But if any doubt should still remain on that point, I shall state one circumstance that I do not recollect having seen mentioned, and that must have had its origin from the orders of superior officers. Every one knows the great, broad, monotonous high roads of France; on any ot these there is sufficient space for the ad- vance of a column, particularly when there is no enemy in front, or if any, one that is flying in all directions. Now, either the Prussian army must have marched in column of grand divisions, or they must have left the paved ckaussee clear, in either case, to force the flanks beyond the road and into the ripe corn, which was without a fence on either side all the w T ay. The wheat was thus trampled down, and as there was no rain, when we came up the ground appeared covered with a fine straw mat. I measured this space in one or two instances, and found it to be about 14 or 15 of my paces ; but let it be called ten yards on each side the road, 90 to- gether ; take the distance from Peronne to Bourget or St. Denis at 65 miles, strike off 5 miles for towns, garden walls? &c, there will be 60 remaining, which, with the 20 yards, will give a square space of 439 Paris. 29 acres. From Beaumont, where the Prussians entered France, to Peronne, is 55 miles, by the same pro- cess giving 402 acres, it being natural to suppose that the same measures were pursued on both roads. This will make 841 acres, and allowing for the march of detachments and patroles across the coun- try, I may w T ith great safety affirm that 1000 acres of wheat just fit to cut were destroyed. Had the men eaten the grain and the horses the straw, there would have been sufficient excuse ; but as it was, nothing could be more wanton or uncalled for than this destruction. I should like to know if breaking doors and win- dows, ripping up beds, and trampling down standing corn, come within the meaning of General Van Grollman's phrase, " helping themselves." The Prussians say that we can be no judges in a case of this kind, and that we can have no idea of the insults and injuries they had to avenge; let us look a little to this point. Prussia, by a long course of temporizing policy, had kept free from the danger which still, like the sword of Damocles, kept hanging over her head. She thereby lost the golden chances of placing her- 30 PARIS. self on an undoubted foundation of national stability. For one instance alone out of many, I might ask, What a difference it might not have made in the affairs of the world at that time, if 60,000 Prussians had taken their share of the battle of Austerlitz ? But these chances were allowed to pass, until after having suffered every species of taunt and humilia- tion, Prussia was forced to take arms at a time when she stood alone. The result might have been easily foreseen. In addition to the odds against them of numbers, and confidence acquired by victory, the evil star of Prussia confided the destiny of her army and monarchy to the Duke of Brunswick. No person in Europe was ever so much over-rated as a general, notwithstanding his feeble attempt on Paris at the commencement of the Revolution, when, in place of loitering in Flanders, he should have carried his army, if possible, by post, at once to the capital. Except in point of personal courage, inherent to his race, he was, in all other respects, incompetent to the task of meeting such an opponent, and all his arrangements, and the battle ground he chose, proved this incontestably. If any one has doubts on this subject,let them read attentively the very clever PARIS. 31 papers, under the title of Battle of Jena, which ap- peared some time since in the United Service Journal. They will there see doubts and dissen- sions among the generals, and total want of confi- dence in their chief; in fact, the troops went into battle without hopes, while alarm and dismay per- vaded every department. The ground had been so badly chosen, not with respect to the mere locale^ but as to its distance from all the reserves and supports, that it was easy to foresee that a defeat must be fatal. It was so ; and the Prussian monarchy was bowed, for the time, to the dust. But no discredit should have fallen on the troops for the faults of their general. They showed subsequently what they could perform. When properly handled, in the campaigns of 1813 and 1814, they upheld the high character of the troops of Frederick ; and although they suffered a reverse at Ligny, it had so little shaken their orga- nization, that they were able to give the most effectual assistance at Waterloo. Without their opportune arrival, the victory, if it had been gained, could never have been so complete ; and in following it up, their activity and zeal had been 32 PARIS. unweariecjg The French had been driven succes- sively from eight or nine halting places, where they might have rallied, and re-organized ; their retreat became a disorderly flight, and dislocated in every sense, the remnant found their way into Laon. The only drawback to these brilliant affairs, was the relaxation of discipline and plunder that ensued. Their defenders, however, say that they had to settle a heavy account of injuries inflicted, their Queen insulted., their houses plundered, heavy contributions, and their soldiers forced to fight battles in which they had no interest. Very true ; but had not the Austrians and Russians equal cause of complaint? The former had seen her provinces torn from her, her armies annihilated, her capital occupied, the same contributions; and if there was no Queen insulted, there was one of the daughters of the proud house of Hapsburgh given up as a breeder of young Buonapartes. Russia had one of her capitals burned, and the whole intermediate space between that and her frontier destroyed, and left desolate. To be sure, she had her revenge on the spot ; but Prussia also par- took of this ; the defection of the Corps d'Yorck, PARIS. 33 was equally fatal to the fortunes of Buonaparte, as his subsequent loss of the Saxon army at Leipsic ; they also picked up some little bits of revenge in 1813, and after they passed the Rhine at Kaub, not to say anything of being in the enemy's capital in 1814. These might have been enough. Retali- ation in war is, in general, a bad and cruel princi- ple, as each party goes on enhancing in reprisals, until it terminates in that pleasing state of affairs that now exists in Spain, where the men, after mutilation, are put to death in cold blood, as pri- soners, and the throats of women cut, to keep them company. CHAP. II. NOTRE BELLE FRANCE RIVERS PLEASANT CAMPAIGN SURRENDER OF PARIS BOIS DE BOULOGNE HOW TO KNOW A TOWN BY THE SMELL WAR CONTRIBUTION PONT d' JENA COLUMN OF THE PLACE VENDOSME REVIEW FOREIGN UNIFORMS BRITISH DITTO FRENCH MODELS LES INVALIDES CHELSEA THE OFFICERS SLIP OUT OF THEIR ARMOUR AN INDIFFERENT PUN. And the flush'd soldier,— rough and hard of heart — In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell. Shakspeare. Sub vesperam Caesar portas claudi, Militesque ex oppido exire jussit, ni quam Nocta oppidani ab JVJilitibus injuriam accipereat. — Cesar's Comment, The Prussian whirlwind had scarcely passed, when the people who had fled from their homes returned, and those who remained, began to repair the damage done to their houses. How should they have known that our troops would not play the same game ? It is one of the curiosities of warfare, that intelligence of this kind should be propagated with such extraordinary rapidity. When PARIS. 35 people might be supposed flying from their own shadows, it was not only a grateful circumstance to ourselves, but flattering to our country, to be hailed as we entered the towns and villages with the cry of " Vivent les Anglois" pronounced by people with whose nation we had been in a state of nearly unintermittent warfare for twenty years. It would appear, that our troops took a pride in repaying this confidence, as I did not hear of any single act of outrage or disorder on the march, either in that part of the army with the advance, or among the numerous regiments that arrived after- wards as reinforcements. The marches were as quietly conducted as if they had been in England, with one trifling exception, at Senlis, where the Brunswick hussars were mistaken for Prussians, which gave rise to what the French call a rixe, and we, a row ; but it was soon explained away. On crossing the Oise, at Pont St. Maxence, we met with (for the first time) a little verdure, the banks of the rivers being nearly the only regions where that article appears in summer. Nothing, perhaps, can shew the patriotism of the French in a stronger light, than their imagining d2 36 PARIS. their country to be handsome. Strangers look about with endless curiosity, without finding la belle France anywhere but in books. I took a view from the ramparts of Peronne, with a most extensive horizon, and nothing was to be seen in the whole circle but an extended space of waving corn, only intersected by the long lines of road, planted with trees which at a distance appeared rather black than green. The view was certainly rich with produce ready for the harvest, but nothing in it, not even a hill, to give it any character of beauty, such as we attach to the country. We might as well call the Isle of Thanet beautiful. I rather think that we give too rigid a translation, in supposing the term applied to the whole country. In general, very few Frenchmen know, or care much about the country, or sylvan scenery, and when they say belle France, it is Paris and its envi- rons they mean. To do justice, however, the rivers in France are much finer, and even more picturesque than our own ; the Rhone, the Loire, and even the Seine, are more beautiful for a long extent than any of our rivers. Indeed, although this country boasts of almost every variety of rural beauty, the large PARIS. 37 rivers have little of it in their course in that respect ; — the Severn, and one of its adjuncts, the Wye, perhaps the most ; but their beauties are dimmed by the muddy water that flows in them, which looks like pea soup. The waters of the Seine are of a green silvery shade, and nearly clear through all their course ; and there can be no comparison be- tween the scenery from Havre to Rouen, and that of the Thames, as far upwards as Greenwich. I have already said that the remains of the French army had fallen back on the road to Laon. Before their arrival there, and subsequently, the soldiers had deserted by hundreds; they of the cavalry sold their horses, and the others disposed of their arms and accoutrements; and we met them in groupes of eight or ten, and sometimes singly, in worsted caps and blouzes, (the blue smock frock of the French peasants). They could not disguise, however, their military trowsers, or divest themselves of their sol- dierlike carriage. We exchanged glances with these gentry falling back into retirement, as much as to say on our part, " We know who you are, but go your way ;" and they seemed to give a smile of acknowledgment that our guesses were right. 38 PARIS. By the fairness of complexion of most we met, we supposed them to be Belgians. Many had the upper lip whiter than the rest of the face, clearly from having shaved off the moustache. This was at least a pleasant mode of meeting an enemy. In- deed, the whole campaign was just what a soldier might long sigh for, — good quarters, good-tempered hosts, with smiling daughters, one great battle, short marches, plenty to eat, and a capital to surrender as a finale ; being, in nearly all these points, just the reverse of the Peninsular war, where sulky hosts, bad quarters, constant fighting, long marches, and a state not far from famine, were the orders of the day. The Prussians, who had been in advance on this, the high road of Cambray, again broke off to the right near Louvres, and crossing the high road from Paris to Amiens, passed the Seine principally at the Pont de Perq, near St. Germain, the bridges higher up the river having been partially destroyed. They marched up the left bank without meeting with resistance, until they reached the heights of Meudon , that are on the left of the road from Paris to Versailles. Here the advanced posts were at- PARIS. 39 tacked by troops from Paris, and driven back. A sharp skirmish was continued, but the French were eventually forced to retreat by the increasing num- ber of the Prussians, and the position was abandoned. The possession of this ground opened the ap- proach to Paris in its most vulnerable point, and led at once to its capitulation. On the right bank of the Seine, the heights of Belleville and Mont Mar- tre make a formidable show of defence ; but no open town of such large extent can hold out long before a powerful army. The interior construction of Paris would make it a formidable place to attack by assault, as has been proved by the affair of the 6ar- ricades; but bombardment, or still more, famine, would soon force a surrender. It may easily be imagined that the entrance of foreign troops to the capital was not quite such a jour de fete as it was the preceding year. Inde- pendent of the tax of free quarters, there was a rumour got abroad of military contributions, and scarce a hope remained that the works of art, spared to the galleries of the Louvre on the former occa- sion, would now be allowed to remain. The citi- zens were, however, soon relieved from the first part 40 PARIS. of their alarm, which was thrown on the inhabitants of what is called the Banlieu* The Prussians took up the ground on the left bank of the Seine, occu- pying Versailles, Sevre, St. Cloud, and St. Ger- main ; Blucher's head-quarters being in the palace of St. Cloud. The British army, after leaving the light brigade encamped in the Champs Elysees, half a brigade at Mont Martre, and posts of artillery at the barriers, with guns pointing to the town, marched out to the Bois de Boulogne to bivouac, locate, or squat, whichever term the reader, civil or military, may prefer. The cavalry were, in the first instance, cantoned along the banks of the Seine, with head- quarters at Ruel and Malmaison ; but the forage being soon exhausted, they were moved into Nor- mandy, leaving only the Queen's bays at head- quarters. This took place after the first review of our troops, which I shall have occasion to mention presently. After some time the Bois de Boulogne offered the appearance of a more regular encamp- ment ; the wood that was cut away to leave place for the tents furnished the required fuel, and the whole space being cut by different allies, served PARIS. 4i to separate the divisions, at the same time furnishing ready means of communication to all the army. Before I had thus planted the army, I should, per- haps, have given some idea of the impression made by the approach to the capital. Most readers will say that is quite superfluous, as every one is ac- quainted with the approach to Paris, which has nothing striking about it. But the feelings of the listless traveller, rolling along in his carriage, or in the lumbering diligence, are very different from those produced by marching as conquerors into the capital of a country, with which we had been so long at war. How many w T ere the recollections engen- dered by our position at this moment, contrasted with the melancholy forebodings of a portion of our own countrymen, and the triumphant shouts of the ene- my, resounding from the Vistula to the Tagus. The whole scene before us appeared more like a dream than a reality, and kept the mind in a state of hurried excitement, which those can best appre- ciate who have unexpectedly alighted on some piece of good fortune. The entrances to Paris by the faubourgs St, Denis and Poissoniere are neither very striking or 42 PARIS. sweet. The soldiers at once compared them to Lisbon. I should think that a man who has tra- velled much on the Continent of Europe, if led blindfold into any of the principal towns, might tell by the sense of smell where he was; and it is curious the shades that are thus offered to the olfac- tory nerves. I should say that, in this sense of the word, Lisbon is the strongest place in Europe. It differs also materially in odour from its own provin- cial towns, as well as from its transatlantic colonies, where all the smells of the mother country are en- hanced by the action of a tropical sun, and the effluvia of a slave population. The prevailing things that strike the sense of smell in continental towns, are those of frying fish in oil, cook shops, and kitchens of coffee houses, blended with tobacco smoke, and other vapours not so agreeable. It is only in the faubourgs, and the confined streets of Paris, and the city, that these prevail much ; and they are there in a great measure kept in subjection by the aroma of chocolate grinders and coffee roast- ers, with an occasional whiff from the perfumers, not forgetting the roasting of chestnuts and apples, and the nosegay merchants. The more genteel quar- PARIS. 43 ters of Paris, — Chaussee d' An tin, faubourg St. Germain, and the vicinity of the Thuilleries, are free in general from anything unpleasant in that way, and in Summer the people there inhale the scent of orange blossom, carried from the gar- dens to a considerable distance. Then the marche aux fleurs near La Madelaine keeps all that part of the boulevard sweet, in addition to other places, where the smartly dressed bouquetieres vend the products of Flora. The first thing that caused "a sensation " in the capital was the war contribution, levied by Blucher, of a million of francs. The prefect of the Seine was taken aback at this peremptory summons ; he hummed and hawed, but it was no use ; he must either make the natives^/or^ out, or he himself take a summer jaunt to Gorlitz in Silesia. The cash was soon forthcoming, and was paid to the Prussian army. The officers had a gay time of it, living at free quarters, with their proportion of this contribution as pocket money. If they complained of not having had their revenge last year, this one surely made up for it. The next hint that the Paris- ians received from their guests was the report that 44 PARIS. the Pont de Jena was to be destroyed, by order of Blucher. Consternation was evident on every face, when it was ascertained that the miners had begun their labours. The people were not only proud of it as a memorial of a splendid victory, but as one of the finest works of modern art in the capital. I believe it is one of the first specimens of a stone bridge without a hog back;* the road way is quite level. Waterloo bridge is exactly on the same plan, but a more magnificent scale. The Emperor of Russia, by his intercession, saved the structure from its intended doom, and by that means much increased his own popularity. Not only was he surrounded by crowds really grateful for this act, but many followed him in the streets, making his name a cloak for the outpouring of their own feelings in favour of Buonaparte. They shouted as they went, " Vive V Empereur ! Vive V Empereur /" and when they saw any agent of the police looking hard at them, they drawled out " Alexandre" All this must have been humiliating in the high- est degree, and the poor Parisians were sadly put * Neuilly is another. PARIS. 45 to extremity to find anything in the shape of conso- lation. Among some attempts of that nature was an engraving, stuck up in the print shops, and along the walls of the Boulevard, representing a portion of the late Imperial guard surrounded by enemies, with the words, " la garde se meurt, mats elle ne se rend pas.'' This was very fine ; unfortunately for its truth, the person in whose mouth these words were placed, (General Cambronne) preferred being a prisoner to the alternative of having a ball through his head. The people had scarcely recovered from their panic about the bridge, when a large detachment of Prussians marched into the place Vendosme, drew up there and halted. The rumour spread like wild- fire that the Prussians were going to strip the co- lumn of its bronze. This report w T as false, as might have been easily imagined, had people given them- selves the trouble to think, — as the history of the pillar had no reference to the Prussian troops. Our army, as I have already stated, was encamped with our allies the Belgians, and contingent of Nas- sau, all infantry, with the exception of a light ca- valry regiment, either Belgian or Dutch, clad in 46 TARIS. orange; they were separated from their countrymen and stationed on the outer flank of our troops, touch- ing on the gate that communicated with the village of Boulogne. This regiment had shown the white feather at Waterloo, and, as a reward, was dis- mounted, did all the pioneer duty of the camp, and were excluded from field-days, reviews, &c. A course of the latter began very soon after our arrival. Our army, including our allies, was reviewed in the principal alley of the Champs Elysees, being in close column of battalions, having the heads toward the road, so that each regiment occupied only in longitudinal space, the length of the leading divi- sion ; the cavalry and artillery on the right near Paris, and the left touching on the barriere de Vetoile. The computed amount was 60,000 men, and 150 pieces of cannon ; but I do not mean to say that all that artillery was present at the review ; they were, however, as they say in Ireland, quite convenient. The allied sovereigns, with all our magnificos^ attended by a glittering mob of staff, passed along the heads of the columns, and turned off into ano- ther alley on the right. We then broke off into columns at quarter distance, and in turn passed our IARIS. 47 reviewers, and then returned to camp. Directly- after this, the cavalry left Paris for Normandy. The main bodies of the Russian and Austrian armies were still distant from the capital, but part of their guards were in attendance on their sover- eigns. These were reviewed in succession, on nearly the same ground, and cut a splendid appear- ance. The Cossacks of the guard made a prominent figure, as well as some of the Russian heavy cavalry. There were also some of the Austrian heavy cavalry in Paris, with cuirasses ; not the shining affairs that our infantry used to call steel jackets, but browned like a japanned tea tray. The most picturesque military dress that I saw in Paris was that of the officers of a yagher regiment of the Austrian guard, I forget whether Bohemians or Hungarians. It was of dark green with gold lace. The hat was brown, falling over the neck behind like a coal-heaver's, and cocked up in front, with a loop and feather, after the fashion of that worn by the gentleman in Der Freyschutz, who fries lead for making bullets among the hobgoblins. It was not, I suppose, thought expedient for the whole of the Prussian army to be assembled, as we 48 PARIS. had been ; but the guards, in number about 10,000, passed in review on the same ground. It was a very splendid display, they being picked men, and all, in military phrase, "well set up." The only thing that did not appear well to our eyes, was the padding they all wore on their chests. I believe they have since found out that it is no particular beauty to a man in any costume to have his craw stuffed out like a turkey for boiling ; as I have since seen the Prussian troops in their own territory without this excrescence. I took particular notice of one battalion, I should have guessed, by the strength of the divisions, to be a thousand men. There did not appear to be a man in it of either ranks under six feet. This one would have supposed to be a battalion of grenadiers ; but, to my surprise, they were armed with rifles. Now, unless they were firing over a barrack gate, I could not imagine what would be the use of Pata- gonian riflemen. Little fellows are, certainly, bet- ter for skulking amongst furze bushes and hedge- rows, the places where they are most partial to carry on their trade in. The Prussian, like the French infantry, carry Paris. 49 swords, which, on a march, keep them alive by banging against the calves of their legs (if they have any), and appear to me of no other use than to help them to swagger in the towns where they are quartered. The French have a bayonet scab- bard fixed to the sword-belt; but the Prussians do without that appendage, (a hint for our military economists.) The bayonet, unless when taken off to be cleaned, remains a fixture on the firelock. This must add much to the weight on the march, and prevent the men from shifting the musket to more easy positions. It used to be a great relief to our men, on a long march, to slacken the sling, and by it hang the firelock over the shoulder, muz- zle down. The Prussians could neither do this, or carry it in the position called secure, without pricking the heels of the file in front. The French troops, of all descriptions, had been ordered to leave Paris, and repair to their different departments, previous to the re-organization of the army, with the exception of the officers who had accompanied Louis the 18th from Ghent. There was a sufficient sprinkling of these, and of the national guard, to represent the French uniform, E 50 PARIS. and to add to the various specimens of military costumes of almost every nation in Europe. To these might be added the dresses of the French Chambers of Peers, and Deputies, with those of the members of the Institute and some municipal func- tionaries, with the court dresses of foreign civilians attending the levees. There were travellers from almost every nation; adventurers of all kinds in hundreds ; together with shoals of our own dearly beloved cocknies, thrusting their noses into every nook and corner. The streets of Paris might have been designated, for some weeks, as a grand fancy promenade. During this period, all the public exhibitions were thrown open to the military without reserve ; and those places to which to gain access at present it is requisite to make written application, were as open and free as the rest; while the janitors, guardians, porters, &c, would as soon have asked a " highlander for a knee-buckle," as an officer for a fee* Amongst these arcana, none struck me more than a gallery, or rather garret, at the top of the Hotel des InvalideS) which contained models of all the PARIS. 51 frontier fortresses of France, with Brest and Tou- lon; and two or three of battles. The one of these that fixed my attention most strongly, was a representation of the passage of the bridge of Lodi. The whole ground was laid out in miniature imitation of the scene of action; the different troops in their actual positions ; while the fire of the artillery and musketry (or rather the smoke) was represented by the gray down of feathers; and the whole thing gave as lively and stirring a picture of the action, as if one had seen the reality from the spire of a church. This fine specimen of diligence and art, with two or three others, were taken away by the Prussians, with rather questionable motives. It could not have been, in this particular case, from national jealousy or soreness, as in the case of the bridge of Jena ; and it could hardly be for simple admiration of the thing as a work of art, and desire to possess it ; because, in the first place, it would strike any observer that it could be placed no where so appropriately as where it was ; and, secondly, from the fragility of the materials, the difficulty of its removal must have appeared at once. I strongly e 2 52 PARIS. suspect these models have perished by the way, as I have seen no account of their arrival, or actual existence, at Berlin or Potsdam. The Prussians had no more right to be annoyed with the passage of the bridge of Lodi than with the battle of the Pyramids ; they had, however, gained their point as regarded the bridge of Jena, which was nominated by the King le Pont des Inva- lides. The bridge of Austerlitz was never disturbed, either in word or deed ; the Emperor Francis took all those sort of things very quietly. I was in one of the salons of the Thuilleries, in which stood a model of the pillar of the place Vendosme, when the Emperor entered. He just took a slight glance at the model and passed on, and never sought his re- venge against the column itself, although it was cased with his molten cannon, for which he was out of pocket. The Hotel des Invalides is altogether a fine struc- ture, and well calculated for the purpose of an asy- lum for a portion of the disabled and wounded men of an army ; but I must confess, in going through this building, as well as in some visits I have paid to Chelsea, I had not that sort of satisfactory feeling PARIS. 53 which many persons have expressed on the same occasion. To me there appeared a sort of mono- tony, of inertness, and melancholy, that pervaded both the places and their inhabitants, difficult to describe by words. The same constant, dull routine of mere animal existence, unchequered with any incident that can rouse the mind from the torpor of a life of consummate idleness; it gives a dull, and stupified air to the inmates, which, I suspect, is never thrown off, except under the stimulus of wine or beer. A man has nothing to do in the world, but recollect the number of his mess, and look after his eating and drinking utensils. I went several times into the library of les Invalides, in search of rare military books, and never saw above two Gr three of the pensioners there at a time. It would appear that even reading, to those who were capable, was too great an exertion ; and the sumnmm bonum of life seemed to consist in basking on a bench in the sun, and turning over the gravel with the point of a stick. I have often thought, that had 1 been placed in similar circumstances, and had merited a pension, how much more I should have preferred having my 51 PARIS. shilling a day to do what I liked with, and go where I pleased, to be locked up in a palace, and regularly fed, and put to bed, like an animal in a menagerie ; in place of repeating a twenty times told tale to the same circle of acquaintance, or listening to theirs, to wander about in search of relations, or long lost friends settled in trade or business, and to their at- tentive ears give the history of a chequered life, and "fight battles o'er again." I have no intention to depreciate the establish- ments of the Invalides or Chelsea, as national charities, but merely to say that they are some- what overrated. Neither of them are capable, in time of war, of receiving one fourth, or one fifth of those who have claims on them ; and I would therefore suggest, that these buildings should be devoted to those who have no friends or relations alive. I speak this more strictly with respect to Chelsea, because, previous to the measure of the late Mr. Wyndham, it was the only refuge for the disabled and worn out men of our army ; but since regular pensions were fixed, the whole establish- ment might be exclusively dedicated to those who have no other home, or so completely disabled and PARIS. 55 worn out, as to be incapable of locomotion. As regards the general dulness of these receptacles, I would make a partial exception in favour of Green- wich ; where, in addition to the amusement of " spinning yarns,' the pensioners have before them a constant epitome of their former life, in the never ceasing passage to and fro of vessels and craft of every description ; the remarks on the build, rig, cut of the sails, &c, have, and often will have? filled up many an interval of time other- wise tedious. A few days after our arrival in Paris, a British officer came in from the camp one day in a round hat, and his coat open. He was either seen by our com- mander or some of the staff, as the next day an order appeared, that officers coming into Paris, were either to appear properly dressed in their uniform, or in coloured clothes. This order had the immediate effect of abstracting every red coat from the daily street masquerade ; it was the most agreeable thing possible to walk about in the hot w T eather at ease ; and it must also have removed a considerable eye-sore from the Parisians. In three days there was no other signs of the vicinity 56 PARIS. of a British army than a few non-commissioned officers, who came in to purchase things for the men. No person knew better how and when to grant indulgence to tlie army than the Duke of Wel- lington ; and it must, amongst others, be a pleasing reflection to him, how seldom his kindness was abused. There was very little duty to do; the quarter guards and a few beyond the limits of the camp were all, and the duty of field officer of the day did not come round above once a month. The generals commanding divisions took them out occasionally for exercise, but it was all over by breakfast time, and the rest of the day was our own. There was only one thing that was a tie. It was the custom in the army when any offence took place that required a general court martial, to have one ordered in the division to which the offender belonged, composed, of course, of the seniors of each rank ; and this court remained permanent after the trial for which they were asssembled was over — that is, they were liable to be called on again on any future occasion, and with very little previous notice. I was in bed one TAR1S. 57 morning in Paris, when I was awoke by my ser- vant, with the intelligence that the court martial was to assemble at ten, and that he had brought my horse for me. It wanted then a quarter of nine. I did not lose much time at the toilette, as I had to gallop off to my billet in the village of Boulogne, to mount my red coat, &c, and then to scamper off nearly to Neuilly, where the court martial assembled. I got there just as the members had taken their seats, and escaped having "goose" This duty hung over me until we were moved from Colville's division to that of Clinton. Nothing shews the superiority of intelligence of soldiers over persons of their own class of life, more than the facility with which they find their way in strange towns, with whose language they are entirely unacquainted. They will not only safely convey a message to its destination, but find out the shops best suited for their own purposes, to purchase what they want. There is, of course, a great deal of pantomimic converse on these occasions, great clip- ping of the tongues of different kings, and Pris- cian's head and all his bones are broken in the conflict. An adjutant at the camp, giving out the 58 PARIS. divisional orders to a conclave of Serjeants, began with the place from whence it was dated " Bois de Boulogne?' — the first word he pronounced as if written boys, and " no blame to him," sure he was an Irish boy himself; the second he could scarce make a mistake about; but the last came from his lips in sucn a shape as to make an excellent rhyme to mahogany. Of all the gay military costumes that fluttered about the garden of the Thuilleries, and the Bou- levard, " I am free to confess," as they say in the House of Commons, that the infantry uniform of our army was by far the most unbecoming. The single-breasted jacket, with small buttons, often badly cut, gave our men that were short in stature the appearance of being potbellied : and the fright- ful caps worn by officers and men, gave no pleasing finish to the figure. They looked as if they had been meant originally to be a sort of chako, but that a sudden scarcity of felt had prevented their being raised to the full height. The front alone had gained that position, and stood like the remain- ing wall of a burnt-clown tenement. This frontis- piece was adorned with a great gilt plate, on which PARIS. 59 were emblazoned the King's arms, excellent for catching the rays of the sun, and good as a mark for riflemen. At one side was stuck a little spruce feather, like a pig with one ear, and at the opposite side, to finish, were hung two gold tassels, particu- larly amusing when on horseback, by bobbing in the face. We were caricatured in all shapes by the French ; but as it was the only revenge they could have, we did not grudge it to them— we joined in the laugh, particularly after we got " ensconced '? behind our mufties. Our troops look as well in line as any other, and are more steady under arms ; but, with few excep- tions, foreigners have the advantage of us indivi- dually, as respects military carriage and dress. I can only account for this, by our having nothing original of our own. All the manifold changes we have had these last thirty years, are but indifferent copies from our continental neighbours. Even to the present moment, we see in the guards the adaptation of the Prussian cuff and the French w T orsted epaulette. I need hardly allude to the never-ending changes of the cavalry uniform. The only thing that has turned up out of all these trans- 60 PARIS. formations of any value, is the new helmet for the heavy dragoons, which is both handsome and useful, and well replaces that great black machine, that looked like the head of a brewer's revolving chim- ney, and served something of the same purpose, of keeping the men's faces away from the wind when on horseback. The French private soldiers, particularly les vieilles moustaches, were not the least precise about their dress when not under arms, but they wore their uniform with a sort of rakish negligence, that I have never seen elsewhere. It was the perfect ease of a military man, and gave a certain degree of reality to the imitation of epaulettes on his shoulder. The sword, too, which I think an incumbrance on service, gives in quarters the air of a gentleman to the wearer, and has a to- tally different effect from the paltry bayonet stuck in our men's side belts. These are now to be discontinued, I understand. Is the man then to wear the belt without anything in it, or have it taken away altogether? In the lat- ter case, the plan pursued by the late General Fox would be the best, — to have the men off duty PARIS. 61 always appear in a forage jacket and cap. The officers have been put at their ease, by wearing a blue frock ; why should not the men also ? The French have, like ourselves, a lion of the day, but they do not, as with us, confine them in a drawing room ; they like to see them in the open air. The one that was the rage at this time was the dress of our highlanders. They were gazed at by the badauds of Paris with the most intense inter- est, all sorts of jokes and caricatures were circulated on the sans culottes. For reasons which I shall en- deavour to explain presently, the French ladies have a horror of determined colours, and nothing purely red, yellow, or blue, ever forms part of their costume. The tints employed take their names from the lion of the day, as well as a whole suite of fashions. At one time it was couleur des fiammes de Popera ; when that building was burnt, the smoke of Paris gave another tint ; then the giraffe was the furor. A vessel came from the Thames, to attempt the impossible task of deepening the channel of the Seine; they had no French word to express this lion, so they had couleur de la famee de la dredging ma- chine. At the time of which I speak, the highland 62 PARIS. chequers gave the tone to ribbons, &c>, all a Fecossaise. I may, perhaps, be allowed an apropos de hottes. Speaking of sans culottes brings to my recollection a pun made at a subsequent period, on the probable dissolution of the ministry of Casimer Perrier, when it was apprehended the extreme gauche, or revolu- tionary party, might gain influence — " Quand le Casimer sera use, nous serons sans cidottes" CHAP. III. THEORY OF PEOPLE BEING BORN ONE AFTER THE OTHER DISPROVED &INT TO MISS MARTINEAU AGRICULTURE IN THE SMALL BEET ROOT REVIEW THE SECOND AL- LIED SOVEREIGNS COCKNIES IN THE DUST BUONAPARTE AT A DISCOUNT THE THEATRES LES ANGLAISES POUR RIRE JOHN BULL RATHER ANGRY DENIZENS OF THE PALAIS ROYAL. Caesar, una setate duobus maximis bellis confectis — in citorierem Galliam ad conventus agendos profectus est. During this summer, the King of the Coeknies having laid in a double allowance of confectionery, set off to France to Jook at the Lions. L' Palais Royal qu 1 est not' jiatrie 5' en rejouinait, Chacun son interet Ainsi point d'Jille qui ne crie, Viv' nos amis, Nosamis, les enn' mis, Beranger. Lady Morgan, in one of those political effu- sions which have gained her the title of " Corinna of the radicals/' (and a better thing, a pension,) says, " that there is no primogeniture in France." This is rather a startling proposition ; as taken in 64 PARIS. the strict sense, it would infer, that all the children of a family came into the world at the same time ; but we must allow Miladi to speak twice, and sup- pose she means that there is no custom or law to that effect, dans la belle France. This, of course, she contrasts with our pernicious mode of making the eldest son rich at the expense of all the rest I have no intention of entering into a lengthened argument on this point, which would lead me to a branch of political economy, that I feel inadequate to discuss ; I shall, however, say that in England, with the exception of entails, every man may leave his property as he pleases. If any prejudice existed amongst the people against the custom of primo- geniture, all those who have risen from small beginnings would break through it. But what is actually the case? Five out of six that have made large fortunes by trade and manufactures, purchase estates to devolve on the eldest son, and send the rest out to work their way in the world. It is said, that the aristocracy thus endeavour to keep up their superiority, and give the country the charge of pro- viding for their younger children. It may be asked on the other hand, does not this system keep up PARIS. 65 and foster the spirit of enterprise, for which this country is so remarkable ; and is it not one of the causes that have led to the vast extent and riches of our foreign possessions ? In France, people are obliged by law to leave their property amongst their children equally ; which sounds, theoretically, very well, as an act of justice, but let us look how it answers in practice. In the first place, as regards landed property, about which the French are very ambitiousof holding titles, it appears very clear, on a general view, that the constant division and sub-division of land must have a detrimental effect on cultivation ; it will in- crease the number of proprietaires, while it dimin- ishes their means, and at once leads to the pursuit of agriculture without capital. In this case, the weakest go to the wall ; the idle, indolent, or inex- perienced will be thrown out. This, in itself, will add afresh stimulus to the military tendency of the people. We will suppose a man w T ho has four sons, possessed of 40 acres of land ; at his death, this pro- perty must be divided, ten acres to each. If they marry, and have children, the same process takes place ; so that, if strictly carried into effect, at the F PARIS. end of the third or fourth generation, there would be scarce enough to bury the proprietaires. The only- obstacles to this tendency, are the superior wealth or industry of some of the parties, which enable them to purchase the shares of their brethren, either directly by money, or by giving a small annual sum as interest Having considered the physical effects of this system, let us look at the moral. If a man has a large family, it is not unfair to suppose that one of them may turn out a " black sheep," not to be reclaimed from evil ways by reproof or remon- strance ; and this worthy the father is obliged to leave as well off as the rest. In the case, also, of deformity of person, or imbecility of mind of any of his family, there is no power left to the parent to make any additional provision for them. This leads to evil results. In the first instance, it produces favouritism in families. A man makes that distinction while alive, from which he is debarred afterwards ; or he runs sulky with the law, and resolves to cheat it, and his children at the same time, by sinking his property in a life annuity. I have said that the system of sub-dividing land, PARIS. 67 and creating a population of petty proprietors, would have a tendency to throw out of employment the less industrious and idle, and send the superfluous people to the army. On the other hand, this law of equal division of property bears with it a " Mai- thusian check" to the increase of population. All those acquainted with la jeune France, are aware how uncommon it is to see more than three children in a family. When that number is achieved, the parties meet as usual at table, and in society, but their sleeping rooms are apart and separate; there is a sort of tacit agreement afterwards, that each party may do as they think fit. Under these circum- stances, I would not pledge myself for the conjugal fidelity of a French man, or any other man ; but with the ladies, the case may be different. Many, I have no doubt, adhere to their vows in this state of connubial celibacy ; but exceptions to the general rule may, perhaps, exist. One of these half- forsaken matrons might find herself in the situation so pa- thetically described in the Groves of Blarney. — " And if a lady Would be so engaging As for to walk in, Those shady groves > f2 68 PARIS. T'is there the courtier Might soon transport her, Into some fort, or The sweet rock close," Should anything unpleasant arise from these little indiscretions, it is soon hushed up. The lady goes to see an aunt in Brittany, takes decoctions of medi- cinal herb? for hereditary dropsy, and returns in due time to Paris, perfectly recovered ; the fruit of the complaint having been, in the mean time, safely de- posited in le tournoir des enfans trouves. Let any one visit this establishment, happily situated near the barriere de V enfer, and look at the recent arrival of candidates for board and lodgings; he will see from the way that they are emball&s 9 that they are, for the most part, children of persons of better con- dition than might be supposed. Indeed, it seems a very convenient sort of place to deposit troublesome babes. Not only illicit ones, but others that come into the world according to law, are sent to this depot of innocence and night caps. Happy country, to possess such an establishment ! France now sighs for the loss of her lotteries and gaming houses, but should any hand disturb the integrity of les enfans trouves, it might produce another jourde barricades. PARIS. 69 This place, the last in the world where there is any question about primogeniture, has, however, led me away from the consideration of the effect on agriculture. In the provinces, particularly in ancient Picardy and Normandy, the division of land is not so apparent. It is effected by marks invisible, or unnoticed by the traveller, and very difficult to say the extent to which it is carried. The general practice I believe to be, that the eldest son carries on the cultivation of the land, and after deducting the expences, divides the residue amongst his bro- thers and sisters. This arrangement, however, would not answer in the vicinity of Paris, or of large towns, where family connexions soonbecorre complicated. Here, the land is absolutely divided but only by a furrow. Each proprietaire puts in what he thinks best, and when the different kinds of produce come up, they give the country the appear- ance of a patchwork quilt ; — here a morsel of oats, there a few vines, next them turnips, barley, or potatoes. This may be particularly observed be- tween Courbevoie and Malmaison. The cultivation of these patches appeared to us quite ridiculous ; it was a recurrence at once to first principles. No 70 PARIS. horses, waggons, ploughs, harrows, or rollers ; no seed lips, drilling machines, or any such foolery ; the whole mystery was practised by a man and his wife. The first marched in front with a hoe in his hand, formed, in that part that pulls up the ground, of three prongs, similar to what we use for spearing eels. The handle of this tool is so short, that the person who uses it is in a constant stooping posture. His wife brings up the rear, having fastened to her shoulders a piece of board, that hangs down her back, and serves as a resting place to a conical vat, resembling a magnified salt basket, filled with manure, which she and her children have picked up on the high road. This her better half deposits by handfuls at the required spots, and pursues his walk until he gets to the end of his estate; he then coun- termarches, scatters the seed from a little bag hang- ing to his side, and then wheels for the third time, and harrows the land with the instrument aforesaid. Noah when he first landed could not have pursued a more primitive course of agriculture. Nothing, however, is so ridiculous as the way this subdivision of land affects sportsmen. Many men who went over to France for economy, or other PARIS. 71 purposes, promised themselves great sport in a country unshackled with game laws ; but they reck- oned without their hosts. In the first place they paid 20 francs for a porte ar?nes, equivalent to our game licence; but then all their troubles were before them. There were, to be sure, no manorial rights, but infinite jealousy as to trespass. A man might get leave from one proprietor, but then it was like the pound of flesh of Antonio, ceded to Shylock, "neither more or less." The sportsman could shoot a partridge on his friend's land, but it might fall two estates off; if he attempted to pick up his bird in the forbidden ground, he had quickly beside him a garde champetre, who marched him off to durance vile. Many disputes arose out of these proceedings, until the sportsmen got fairly tired, locked up their Mantons, and sent their pointers home again. "Atty," (as the soldiers familiarly called the Duke), took the liberty of trespassing on a large scale, as our second review was in the plain of St. Denis. The corn had been all carried, and the stubble to boot; but there remained on the ground the beet roots. As our men blundered over these 72 PARIS, in double quick, an occasional d n was given to Buonaparte's sugar plantations. The Belgian troops, and contingent of Nassau, had been moved into cantonments in the neighbour- ing villages, and their places in the camp taken up by the reinforcements that daily arrived, principally from North America. This, then, was a scarlet review ; there being no other troops but British and Hanoverians, and the muster fell litttle short of 60,000 men. The movements of the review were supposed to represent that portion of the battle of Salamanca, when our troops issued forth from the concealment of the Arapiles to attack the left of the French army, separated from their centre. The only ground of any elevation on this extended plain was a conical mount, about half the height and size of Primrose hill. This might be supposed to represent the Arapiles, and behind it the army was drawn up in contiguous close column, having the rear on the great road from St. Denis to Paris. This rising ground was gradually occupied by the allied Sovereigns, their staff, with officers of all nations ; and the heights of Montmartre also shewed a concourse of spectators. On the plain, and in our PARIS. 73 front, were only to be seen lots of cocknies, who had arrived in greater numbers than our reinforce- ments. These, "curious in fish sauce" and military movements, came crowding in our front, wondering why we stood so long without doing any thing, and enquiring what we were to perform. They seemed much surprised that we could give them no informa- tion on that point, and began to believe that this was a very stupid sort of review ; no saluting, march- ing past, or firing. We had remained quiet for about an hour and a half, until the spectators were all assembled, when the order passed to take ground to the right and front. This was done directly in echellon of columns, and at double quick. This movement, and its rapidity, entirely disconcerted our Bow-bell friends in front. The most active en- deavoured to turn our right flank, and be safe from "War's alarms," but they encountered here the guns at full gallop, escorted by detachments of the Queen's bays ; this drove them back on their ori- ginal line of retreat, which became a regular sauve qui peut. The day was warm and dry, and the movement of such a body of men kicked up a magnificent dust, which a fresh wind in our backs 74 PARIS. wafted forward in great quantities, so that those of the runaways whose wind began to fail, on turning round to know if we were on their heels, could see nothing but dust, and our proximity was alone ascer- tained by the dull noise of the movement. Happy the fellows in this case, who found themselves in a line with a tree, of which a few were scattered over the plain ; they immediately drew up to leeward of them, and soon became extended in a long line, like a sunset shadow. As we passed them we wished them joy of their escape, and those who had breath enough, joined heartily in the laugh against them- selves. After the completion of our movement to the right, which rather astonished the natives of some of the villages to the left of St. Denis, through which we trotted, the troops formed in close column, right in front, at quarter distance, (the formation always observed in marching in review in France) and passed the allied Sovereigns and staff. They had taken up their position on our right flank, but were soon obliged, by the quantity of dust, to come across to the left. We then continued our route to the camp. PARIS. 75 It was, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary things connected with the affairs of the times, the little interest that seemed to have been taken at Paris relative to the fate of Buonaparte, After his surrender to Captain Maitland, there was some anxiety to ascertain if he would be given up to Louis the 18th, and undergo a trial similar to that of Marshal Ney ; but as soon as the decision rela- tive to his removal to St. Helena became known, all interest about his fate seemed to have ceased. Not that his adherents had given up his cause, but they thought it prudent not to make any demonstra- tion on a subject that every one else was silent about. It was rather curious that the Belerophon, that had taken so prominent a share in all the general actions of the war, should wind up her career by receiving on board the ex-Emperor. Many have been the yarns spun about the " Ruffin, or Rough- un," as the sailors used to call her. It w T as with a sort of regret for departed greatness, that I after- wards saw this gallant old ship, that had so often "braved the battle and the breeze," transformed into a sheer hulk at Plymouth dockyard, for the recep- tion of convicts, and the name changed to the " Cap- 76 PARIS. tivity." It brought to my mind the story of the high mettled racer. There has been another ship built to keep up the name, but the old fighting Ruffin should never have been turned to such base uses. The visit of foreign armies, however unpalatable to national feelings and individual tastes, was un- questionably very favourable to all those various classes that go by the title of artistes in Paris. Among these, if not the first in rank, the most pro- minent in place, are the performers at the different theatres, to whom the invasion furnished a rich har- vest, and still better to the managers. All the the- atres were crowded to suffocation, and none more so than the national opera, called U Academie Royale de Musiqae. To go into this theatre, (particularly after the payment of the first war contribution,) a person might have easily supposed himself at the opera of Berlin or Potsdam, so full the boxes were of Prussian military. There was, to be sure, a good attendance of English ; but they being in coloured clothes did not make so prominent a figure. This was the most expensive theatre, and very little for the money. The French opera was, at that time, an abomination to any one who had the least musical IWRIS, 77 ear. I do not recollect if Melial ever wrote any- thing for the stage, I rather think not ; and Auber, Boieldieu, and Herrold had not yet appeared on the scene, or at least with that degree of fame subse- quently attached to their names. There was no- thing on the stage then but the antiquated strains of Lulli, Gluck, and Gretry, except the outbreakings of some sot disant musicians, whose names have fallen into oblivion. The principal aim of these composers was to make the greatest noise possible. There was the shouting of discordant choruses, and braying of trumpets in the orchestra; but these were trifles to the bellowing of some of the principal singers, among whom Lai's was conspicuous. He might have said with Bottom, " I will roar, that it will do any man's heart good to hear me." To counteract this noise, and the tinsel exhibition it accompanied, there was the only redeeming point, the Ballet The superiority in this branch of the arts, we cannot for a moment refuse to the French, it appears almost to be instinctive of the race. The heroine of those days was Biggotini, whom the Pa- risians called " the divine." Without possessing the wonderful elasticity and power of motion of 78 PARIS. Taglioni, she never was excelled by her, or any one else, in ease and grace. She was, without excep- tion, the most splendid actress in dumb show I ever saw ; in which, I think, most will agree with me, who saw her in Nina, ou la folle par amour. I afterwards saw Pasta in that character in the Italian opera of the same title, and although she had the advantage of speech and music, and was a first-rate female tragedian, yet I would have given at once the palm to the Biggotinn The theatre in which she exhibited these graces was in la rue Richelieu, the most splendid building of the kind in Paris, and superior in dimensions to the present opera house in Rue Lepelletier. It was in coming out of this house that the Duke de Berri was assassinated, and revenge was taken of the unfortunate stone walls; the entire edifice was pulled down, and a chapel of atonement built in its place. This had been finished, and was about to be consecrated, when, heigh presto, all changes ; the revolution of July took place, and this chapel is either to be pulled down, or applied to secular purposes. The Comic Opera, in Reu Feydeau, was, if pos- sible, worse in point of music than the Academic PARIS. 79 Never did I hear such " tragical mirth," as was nightly drawled forth at this theatre, which has since been burned, and is now replaced by a hand- some one facing the Exchange. The Italian Opera was very little better than either the above. The company was at low ebb, and nothing good but the orchestra. Fortunately for all these, as well as the minor theatres, the prin- cipal part of the audience did not set up as dille- tanti. Novelty was everything. Le Theatre Fran- fais was as crowded as the others; and this, the national theatre, seemed to be made the arena where political parties might best display their feelings, by seizing on passages in plays applicable to their own views, and applauding them to the skies. Here the Buonapartists ventured to show themselves. They generally occupied at least half of the pit, and it was soon evident for what purpose they came to the theatre. I was there one night when Les Horaces of Corneille was performed. Sundry political allu- sions were drawn from various passages of the tra- gedy ; but when it came to the entrance of the messenger who describes the state of the conflict to the elder Horace, tells him that two of his sons had SO PARIS. been slain, and that the third had fled, the old man's rage at the last event becomes outrageous. When the mistress of this son endeavours to intercede, and says, in a deprecating tone, que vouliez vous qii il fit contre ti*ois, the whole Buonaparte department of the pit rose together with a deafening cheer ; but the triumph was short, as the old man's answer, Qu' il mourut, was instantly caught up by the Royalists. Although this, in common with the other theatres, was generally crowded, yet, on the nights that Talma performed, it required a great deal of patience, and some "rib roasting," to obtain a place. I have read, with some degree of weariness, most of the French tragedies,. The poetry seems always to be marching on stilts, and the constant recur- rence of rhymes gives an impression of monotony, unpleasant to an English reader. I had expected that this feeling would accompany the representa- tion, but was agreeably surprised, in hearing how the best actors spoke these lines to avoid this clash- ing, which was rarely heard. Still, it is only a difficulty conquered. French performances, at all the theatres, are more generally perfect than with us. Where we PARIS. 81 have a leading star, and all the rest puppets, in France equal ability is required for the portraiture of all the characters ; and to insure it, for each role two persons are broken in, so that if one falls sick, his or her double is ready to come forward to supply the loss. Still, with all this, I think what is called the classical French tragedy must always be tiresome to English auditors. The very unity of the scene impresses a feeling of dulness. To see the interlocutors come forward in couples, and say their say, on the same ground; or perhaps some magniloquent hero, who spouts a hundred lines of high sounding verse to his tiger. How the French could have borne these poetical yarns it is difficult to conceive ; but at last they have broken their dra- matic chains, and have not acted more sanely than when they shook off their political bondage ; — they have adopted all the monstrosities of our and the German theatre, and wallow in all the horrors of Victor Hugo. To form tragedies of the romantic school, Les Causes Celebres, and the annals of crime everywhere, have been ransacked to furnish subjects. I saw one of these at Porte St Martin ; the title was La G 82 PARIS. Marquise de Brinvilliers, founded on truth, but a most revolting subject to bring on the stage. This wicked and infatuated woman, to please a lover, who helps her to concoct the poison, destroys her own father, her husband, and her brother ; kills one or two people by accident, among these the princess, who dies by mistake, in place of a rival of the Mar- chioness's daughter. At last, this interesting heroine is caught endeavouring to escape ; is tried by the Chambre Ardente, and sentenced to be burnt alive. The greatest part of the murders, and the final exe- cution, were carried into effect before the eyes of the audience. I have seen it remarked in some travels, that the French have no idea of what we calltofos, or can- not comprehend the force of Buonaparte's remark, "from the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step." The truth of this struck me forcibly on the conclu- sion of this doleful tragedy. The part of the Mar- chioness was performed by Mademoiselle Georges, an actress of some celebrity, and formerly an amie of Buonaparte. Her charms had, at this time, rounded out into matron-like proportions, but not incompatible with the assumed character, which she PARIS. 83 went through with great credit. In the last scene, when placed on the funeral pile, the dress she wore, something like a winding sheet* was sufficiently- appropriate, and the illusion of the scene was not disturbed. We saw her safely committed to the flames, and the curtain fell with great applause, which continued much longer than usual. This was in accordance with the absurd custom of bring- ing performers forward to receive applause. Now, in this instance, the affair was not so easy of execu- tion. The penitentiary robe, however calculated for a suttee, was not well adapted for crossing a coun- try in. The late victim of justice was rather puz- zled how to get on. She was finally obliged to tuck up before and behind, and both hands being em- ployed, she was led on by the elbows to receive the applause. Nothing in all this appeared ridiculous to the French ; but to myself, and a few other Eng- lish, it was irresistible. We burst into a loud laugh, and, I believe, were looked at by our Gallic neigh- bours as little better than Goths. However slow in observing the ridiculous in cases such as I have pointed out, the French are g2 84 PARIS. wide awake to it in the shape of errors in speaking, or writing ; — any solecism against good manners, or the conventional modes of society. Their language on these occasions is satirical and epigrammatic, and the mot rarely fails of being employed at the right time. This is what we denominate wit ; but what are called fun and humour with us, seem to be little understood. The most prominent and popular spe- cimen of the last named domain of Momus, seems to be with our neighbours up-hill work. Their at- tempts at caricature in drawing are all over done, and run at once into grotesque. They made several attempts to ridicule us in the print shops, but they were all failures. They succeeded better, however, in that object, on the stage. A piece was brought forward at the Varietes, called Le Anglaises pour rire, which still holds its place in the repertoire of that theatre, although the fun of the thing has been half lost by the present similarity of dress amongst the ladies on both sides of the water. In 1815, the French women wore gowns with very short waists, or, rather, no waist at all ; they were beflounced to the kneesj and had enormous bonnets, large enough PARIS. S5 to cover a brood of turkies. Our females (as the American calls tliem) were dressed in long waists to the extreme, with small cottage bonnets, or those that derive their name from that useful utensil a coal scuttle. Nothing, therefore, could be in greater contrast. The principal character of the piece, an English lady, was represented by Potier, the cele- brated comedian, and his stature gave a ridiculous length to the old dame's extent of waist. This per- son commences by asking for apartments, and makes numberless mistakes in her French, calling her niece always Ma niaise. The title of the piece was rather in bad taste, as les Anglaises had, at that time, the best right to laugh at the French ; the trifle, how- ever, was amusing. At all these mistakes and guacheries of our supposed countrywoman, the French used to turn to us with a sort of triumphant smile. As we knew this was all the revenge they could have, w 7 e joined in the laugh. One evening, however, that I was present, an Englishman in the centre box, did not at all seem to relish his grand- mother being turned into ridicule. The French soon observed that lie was touched "on the raw," 86 PARIS. and they looked at him with an ill-suppressed sneer. At last Mr. Bull, losing his patience at the end of one of the acts, stood upright, and leaning towards the pit, said, very deliberately, Vous etes des betes. This was, probably, his whole stock of French, but it was enough to set the pit into a splendid uproar. At first they seemed thunderstruck, and supposed that they had misunderstood ; but the perpendicular gentleman repeated his words very quietly ; " there could be no mistake." Instantly manifold cries arose of " turn him out," but no one seemed inclined to volunteer the duty. The noise, however, made one of the gens d' armes in the lobby open the box door and look in, expecting to see some row or dis- turbance, but nothing of that kind appearing, he withdrew ; but the increased noise in the pit brought him back. On this occasion, guided by the signs, he proceeded to the front row. Here were two persons sitting, and one standing up, as immoveable as a statue, with his hand thrust into the breast of his waistcoat, and who was not at that moment speak- ing a word. The man of the police was quite at a loss, and began looking for the offender under the PARIS. 87 benches. He was joined at this time by a Serjeant, who had the sense to ask an explanation, and having fixed the affair on the offender, aided by the soldier, he marched the Englishman off, who, however, left his malediction in the former words, " vous etes, fyc." This put me something in mind of the last words of Jean Chandos, when yielding to the Beau Dunois, as the words were continually repeated until out of ear shot, and served as a response to the loud cries from the pit, " a la porte, a la ported In speaking of the theatres, it may be supposed natural that I should make some allusion to certain constant attendants at our playhouses. To the credit of the French police, this kind of artistes are not admitted even to the lobbies ; they are confined, in general, to their own territory, the Palais Royal, where^ no doubt, they flourished at this time. Beranger has put into their mouths the song, a part of which I have quoted at the head of this chapter, that shews, at least, this class did not suffer from foreign enemies. There were generally some of this worshipful corporation patroling near the gaming houses, and if by chance any poor fellow 88 PARIS. was over burthened with his winnings, they were kind enough to assist in lightening the load. The extension of the Order of the Bath took place when we were at Paris, and a good deal of joking went round about the Knights Companions to be found in the Palais Royal. CHAP. IV. HINTS ABOUT FEEDING' DINING BACKWARDS LOUTS DES HUITKES DRUM BEATING LES MOUCHARDS FOUCHE i/ ARC DE TRIOMPHE GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE IMA- GINARY BUILDINGS RUBENS DONE IN WORSTED UN FRANCAIS DE PLUS HUNTING AND SHOOTTNG AN INTER- ESTING ITALIAN ECARTE ROCIIER DE CANCALE. Un repas de gourmand est rarement depourvu de quelques-uns de ces ragouts fins et delicats, faits pour piquer V appetit, et aiguilbner la sensualite. — Breviare des Gourmands. I am Christopher Sly, and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef — Shakspeare. Arise ! the burthen of their song, This day a stag must die. Old Towler. I fear that I shall be charged with want of proper zeal in the cause, when I place cookery among the arts, and cooks as artistes, in room of describing gastronomy as a noble science, adminis- tered by professors ; and that I have read to little advantage the brilliant introduction to M. Ude's erudite work. I must, however, shelter myself 90 PARIS. under my home-spun prejudices, and treat the sub- ject as, in my apprehension, it deserves. It has been reckoned one of the distinctions of man from the lower divisions of the creation, that he is a u cooking animal." This point granted, we may, without feelings of much jealousy, allow the French the supremacy in this art, or science, which- ever it may be called ; in fact, every person in France, arrived at years of puberty, can cook some- thing, which is more than can be said in this coun- try. Let us not assume any superiority on this account, or sneer at such sort of useful knowledge, which would be at least of as much value to a honest mechanic and his wife, as learning the difference between positive and negative electricity, or oxygen and hydrogen. In France the man can carry on the stew or fricassee, while his wife soothes an angry child ; and she can take his place, when he goes to hew the wood that keeps the mess in acti- vity. But above all people, this knowledge is of most use to the soldier. I may appeal on this head to all the experience of the peninsular war, where our young soldiers were nearly starved, simply from a want of a little of this scavoir vivre. TAK1S. 91 I recollect seeing the French garrison of Malta, consisting of 4000 men, when they surrendered. For nearly two years, these soldiers had never seen meat, or fish ; their daily ration consisted of four ounces of bread, and a wine glass of oil. Whether they fried lizards, or made soup out of samphire that grew on the bastions, I do not know, but they were alive and well at the capitulation. In both these points I may advocate the practice of cookery, but in a more general view the case is somewhat doubtful. A French cook who had migrated to this country said, that we had forty religions and only one sauce ; but it is better to have good wholesome meat that furnishes its own sauce, than to eat some unknown animal wrapped up in a brown gravy, that leaves you in pleasant uncertainty as to the reality of what is going down your throat Amongst the various plans that the French have pursued (with indifferent success), for the liberty and benefit of mankind, they do not seem to have done anything to ameliorate the basis of their food ; the breeds of animals for that purpose have remain- ed unchanged, and without cross, probably since the time of King Pepin. The oxen would, pro- 92 PARIS. bably, be tolerable, if killed in Normandy; but they are marched up in the winter, or rather they slide along the muddy roads, and arrive in Paris very much deteriorated, not a carcase that is free from the marks inflicted by the brutality of the drivers. The sheep are of a bad description, and the mutton without flavour. The pork looks very well, if one was satisfied how it was educated. But the most edible of all the meats in the Paris market is the veal from Pontoise. This being the state of the case, English resi- dents in France had better adhere to the cookery of the country, as they will have small satisfaction in dressing the meat in their own fashion. This sublime art of disguising meat partakes of the nature of a mystery, and is conveyed in language unintel- ligible to foreigners. It would be much easier to translate Dante, or the works of a German meta- physician, than a French cookery book. I may refer to the attempt of Eustache Ude, where he is always breaking his shins over entrees, entremets purees, Salmis et Macedoines ; and I would defy any Englishman to define exactly the constantly recurring word Jilet. PARIS. 93 The two houses most frequented in Paris by the wandering English were stuck against the wall of the Thuilleries, with the best apartments looking into the garden ; the restaurant of Du Gacq being celebrated for meat breakfasts, and Verey's for dinners, These houses have long since disappeared. At these, the untravelled young Englishmen used to order all kinds of things, and often left it to the discretion of the landlord. They drank champagne and lafitte, and were surprised to find their bills not quite so high as at the Clarendon, or Long's. As fashion is every thing with us, all the parvenus who arrived, must imitate these high dandies, and dine at the same place ; but in place of leaving the dinner to the landlord, they attempted the task of ordering it themselves. A French bill of fare, to those who understand it, is a bill of distraction — a person hardly knows how to choose; but to one ignorant of the language, it is "heathen Greek." Tatake off from its alarming appearance, most of the restaurateurs have it now bound up in a small volume. We may suppose a Johnny Newcombe furnished with one of. these. As he begins the at- tempt he finds amongst the first articles, potage au 94 PARIS. vermicelle ; here he is at home. His eye next runs over the fish, and the names are so similar to the English that he feels quite alive. He begins, how- ever, to think turbot and salmon with caper sauce rather apocryphal : but at last he comes to fried soles. About these there can be " no mistake," and they are ordered. Then he becomes distracted about ros bif d 9 agnean, and ros bif de monton; but finishes by ordering a poulet or poularde to conclude. Two youths, on an occasion, at one of these houses, proposed dining backwards. They ordered fruit and wine, then a roast fowl and salad, followed by a fricandeau, then fish, and concluded with soup. They effected their purpose of astonishing the wait- ers. In common with most of their countrymen, they understand very little about what are called practical jokes, and they generally set down the perpetrators as people out of their senses. I met with an Englishman at Paris who said, the two things that pleased him most were, having his boots cleaned at a decrotteur's while he read the paper, and eating a fricassee of frogs at Beauvillers. Talking of good living and the Thuilleries, na- Paris. 95 turally brings me to speak of the inhabitant of that fabric, Louis le desire, who, spite of the gout, at- tacked the good things of Paris with renewed spirit. This habit, however, did not add much to his per- sonal activity ; that, under the circumstances in which he was placed, would have been extremely useful. He had, however, a good temper, and pretty clear views of the questions brought for his judgment, that enabled him to glide along pretty smoothly to the end of his short reign. It is said that, when he took possession of the abode of his ancestors in 1814, he asked Fouche what changes he thought would be requisite or beneficial ; and that wily politician advised him to change only the sheets on the Emperor's bed. It would have been well for him, and better for his successors, if this advice had been strictly fol- lowed. I never ceased to think that it would have been of infinite service to the dynasty if they had at once, and with good grace, adopted the national colours. Louis was over-ruled, perhaps, by his family ; or had forgotten the extreme value the French set on things of that kind, of which we can form no idea without referring to our history of the 96 PARIS. wars of the roses. This flag they almost worshipped; they had seen it unfurled in most of the capitals of Europe, and in their eyes it was the constant emblem of victory. They saw it replaced by a colourless colour, that had no such prestige, and was, in fact, a perfect stranger to the eyes of the actual generation. I have no great love for the tricolor, but I could not help thinking it a better looking article than the white rag that floated over the Thuilleries, some- thing like a half-washed dinner napkin. I went one morning to mass in the Chapel of the Thuilleries, and was in that part of the gallery which gave a view of the suite of apartments, where we awaited the arrival of the King. At length the doors flew open, and S. M — appeared, looming large in the distance : in giving an account of his own evasion at the time of the revolution, the King says that his companion who accompanied him in that flight, frequently cautioned him not to dandi- ner 9 in other words, not to walk like a turkey. I should say that in this journey through the gallery of the palace, the walk resembled more the laboured march of a penguin, or lame duck; it took a very considerable time to effect, and when the King got PARIS. 97 into the chapel he lost no time in dropping into his chair. They say we are all children of larger growth, and have our toys that are always varying; but I will give the French credit for being constant in all ages to one plaything, the drum. Without "harking back" to childhood, we may remark that the drum is by far the most prominent instrument in use, both in the army, and in civil life ; in the former, it plays the principal part, no fife or squeaking instru- ment being allowed to interfere with it. On service, the drummer is a leading character in every sense. He is at the head of his company in file marching, on the flank in column, and when any thing is wanted to rouse the courage of the men, or excite them to great exertion, le tambour begins thumping his parchment ; although, to our ears, nothing could sound so dull, or monotonous, particularly in wet weather. In all the towns and villages, the func- tions of our bell-man are performed to the sound of the drum; and the travelling quack, or tooth- drawer, makes his entree to every village or hamlet, tambour battant. Even in the churches its use is known. The troops go in on great occasions with H 98 PARIS. their arms ; when the host is elevated, there is a genuflexion salute, accompanied with the roll of the drum. In the King's chapel, at the time I speak of, there was the bass drum of the band, placed in the lower part of the chapel ; and when the announce- ment was made of the King's arrival by some official, the drummer below gave one loud blow with his drumstick on the instrument. On the occasion I have mentioned, the King was apparently much fatigued with his long march, and could hardly support himself. Every one near him crowded to offer assistance ; it was not, however, until he had the arms of the chair in his hand, that the person whose business it was, bethought himself of " singing out" le Roi; so that it happened that his Majesty flopped down in his chair, at the same instant with the bang of the great drum. This com- bination appeared so ridiculous to the English present, that neither the religio loci, or the pre- sence of Majesty, could restrain us from laughing, but the French preserved unmoved the gravity of their countenances. The duties of the exterior and interior of the palace, were performed by the PARIS. 99 national guard ; I observed on this day that they were all armed with Tower muskets. The following morning I was on the terrace of the Thuilleries, in conversation with four French officers, whom I had known as prisoners in Eng- land ; they were royalists, and had been with the King in Ghent. We were talking over the anecdote of one of the emigrants, who on leaving Paris had converted all his effects into gold, which he put in a bag, under the conviction, common to many of the same class, that a counter revolution would soon recall them. He therefore kept only a few pieces in his pocket, and, concealing himself in the garden, he contrived, when it was dark, to convey his bag of louis into one of the great vases that stand in the alleys. Years rolled on, and when this man returned to Paris in 1814, he could scarcely hope that his money remained. He procured authority and assistance, and mounted to the search. He found that the bag had perished except a small portion where it was tied at the neck, but to the great delight of the emigre, he found his louis d'or, although somewhat tarnished, safe at the bottom of the vase. I was questioning one of the party as to h 2 100 PARIS, the truth of this story, when we were joined by a figure which any where but in Paris would have been remarkable. He was a tall, thin man, appa- rently about 70 years of age. His hair was in queue, and well powdered. He had on a small cocked hat, a coat of grey linsey-woolsey, with a croix de St. Louis at the button hole, an embroidered waistcoat of some antiquity, nankeen unmentionables, white cotton stockings, with shoes and large buckles, and a cane in his hand. In fact he was a good represen- tative of the caricatures that were circulated in the preceding year of some of the returned emigrants, that were styled Voltigeurs de Louis quatorze. This antideluvian beau, as he approached us, drew out his snuff box, that universal French master of the ceremonies, and proffering its contents, he said " Messieurs, vousparkz des vases, je vous diraiquel- que chose la dessus" I observed my companions exchange looks, and in a moment they all dispersed, nearly as rapidly as if a shell with the fuse burning had dropped amongst us. As the one I was most intimate with got outside the gate, I said " In the name of wonder what was the matter with you all, that you flew off in that fashion ?" " Ah," said he to PARIS. 101 me, c< you don't know c' est un mouchard f " this he said in much the sort of tone a man might be sup- posed to speak of meeting a Bengal tiger, or a rattlesnake in his path. " Well," said I, " what occasion for alarm ? your loyalty to the King is well known, and I don't care myself for all the mou- chards of Paris" He replied that it was impossible to form a judgment of the mischief these people might do ; that when they met with nothing real to report, they set their invention to work, to prove their zeal. There were many females members of this corporation of spies, and they pervaded all degrees of society ; the salons, theatres, reunions of all kinds, ball-rooms, coffee-houses, gambling-shops, ginguettes, tabagies, were all infested with this vermin. The danger attending the performance of their functions made them very rare in the army, where they would have been so soon discovered ; but in all the prisons, and depots of officers on parole in England, there was at least one of this San Hermandad. "You will recollect," said he to me, " at the depot where I was, seeing an old General K — formerly Prefect of Gaudeloupe ?" « Perfectly," I replied. " Well," said he, " to him 102 PARIS. I confided, in the strictest confidence, my sentiments of loyalty to the Bourbons, and had his assurance that his feelings were in unison with my own. On my arrival in Paris, during the hundred days, I found I had been denounced to Buonaparte by this very man. It was truly" continued he, u an Imperial mode of suppressing opinion, and I am only sorry to see it continued under Louis the 18th, most probably at the recommendation of le coquin Fouche." Before quitting the territory of the Thuilleries, I shall venture, at the risk of repeating what others may have said, to state the impression made on me at the time by what fell within my notice. It has been previously remarked, that whatever merit there may be in the arch of the Carousel, it is overborne by the great mass of surrounding buildings. It is a pretty plaything, and would have made a suitable entrance to Compeigne, St. Cloud, or any country palace ; but it is out of place where it stands, and the coloured marbles that form part of it give a garish look, that does not suit with edifices of that description. In 1815, the bassi relievi represented some of the French triumphs ; among them, the PARIS. 103 presentation of the keys of Ulm and Vienna to Buo- naparte. These were, in the actual state of affairs, considered offensive. They were removed, and their places filled up with plain marble slabs. The Corinthian horses were then in position, and har- nessed to these splendid specimens of art was an empty car, about the size of a tar barrel, intended to contain a statue of Buonaparte. Perhaps he did not think much of himself as "a whip," and that his appearing to direct the course of such fiery steeds might appear ridiculous. Paul, in his letters to his kinsfolk, says, that he was deterred by some one having made a pun le char le tient. This would be but an indifferent one. The way I heard it was, that a Frenchman looking at the groupe, said " Mais ou est V Empereur ? le char V attend^ which is a bet- ter calembourg on charlatan? Every one has seen the gallery which joins the Thuilleries with the Louvre. The lower part gives winter lodgings to the orange trees of the garden, and the upper offers a lounge to wandering English people, gazing at pictures. On first seeing this collection, I may say the feeling was oppressive. It seemed almost a hopeless job to wade through 104 PARIS. this avenue of paintings. In fact, nothing can be more vague than the impression of a first visit. It would have required nothing less than the patience of a catalogue maker, to find out and note all the paintings of value that then filled this interminable gallery. To a connoisseur, a month would have been required to fix the most prominent of these works in his memory. To add to the fatigue, the gallery is lighted by windows at both sides, so that one has to dance ten minutes before every picture before the proper point of view is gained. The French have done wisely to put some of the productions of their modern school at the entrance of the gallery, as they serve as an excellent foil to what comes after. There is a great painting of David, representing an assemblage of men and women, quite naked, except having well polished helmets on their heads and sword belts over their shoulders. In what era of the world such a costume could have existed would puzzle an antiquary. There has been also placed there since, a large painting of the wreck of theMedusa, in which all sorts of horrors are ac- cumulated. Strange that they should not have learned anything from the vicinity of the works of PARIS. 105 their own countrymen Claude, Poussin, and Vernet, with a whole host of the first painters of the conti- nental school. I was some years afterwards at the exhibition of modern artists, that takes place annually in the apartments of the Louvre.* Among a great many staring, glaring pictures, I observed one, by an artist of celebrity (a baron, if I recollect). The subject was the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise. The figures, with the exception of a little stiffness of position, were without fault ; but they were painted in a colour that resembled a mixture of cor- rosive sublimate, steel filings, and tooth powder. It might, however, have been so far natural, as repre- senting our first ancestors to be under a strong fit of the blue devils. Among what were called the gigantic conceptions of Buonaparte, was that of running another gallery to join the two palaces, to correspond with the one already finished. This, probably, will never be executed ; and if it should, the effect of such a * The late Emperor had caused the letter N to be fixed on dif- ferent points of the entablature, which gave rise to the pun 11 a des ennemis par tout. 106 PARIS. lengthened parallelogram, with nothing inside but the little arc de triomphe, seems to me to be very doubtful. The French enjoy a good deal of imagination in matters of building. I saw, when we arrived in Paris, a plan of the capital, and views of the public buildings. Among them were the Exchange, the Palace of the King of Rome, opposite the bridge of Jena, and the Temple of Glory, in the faubourg St. Germain. The first of these buildings was not then more than half finished, the second had not got eight feet above ground, and the last never existed at all. What they cannot give in reality, they are partial to imitate in screen work. Most people will recol- lect in the Palais Royal a row of wooden huts, just at the entrance, and directly under the palace of Louis Philippe, as Due d* Orleans. This was called la galerie de bois, and there it remained for years, until it had nearly fallen to pieces. It is now re- placed by an arcade covered with glass. Some time before the Egyptian obelisk had arrived in France, a model of it was erected in the place of many names, where the reality now stands. I was driving past it, when the cabman asked me if that was not a fine PARIS. 107 thing? "Yes," I said, "if it was not made of wood." He affected immediately both surprize and disbelief, although he knew, as well as myself, the true state of the case, which his national pride would not allow him to confess. I have lately heard that the unfinished gallery of the Louvre, to which I have referred, has been patched up in this wooden fashion, to receive the specimens of gobelin tapestry. This arrangement appears to me to destroy half the effect of the exhi- bition, which arose in a great measure from seeing the process of the manufacture. I was much struck with this tapestry at first, when they did not pretend to do more than copy portraits ; but the worsted ambition has taken now a higher flight. When I was last in Paris, they were copying some of Rubens's pictures from the gallery ; and in my opinion they made his chubby goddesses look like Dutch ale wives. It is melancholy to see such a waste of time for such an object. It requires half the life of a man before he can finish one of these copies, includ- ing his apprenticeship. They also make there, ex- pensive carpets, generally of bright yellow. But these are confined to palaces, and seldom used. 108 PARIS, I shall not inflict on the reader any further details of " the precincts of the palace," which shall be postponed until I speak of the movement of the works of art from the galleries. I shall only at pre- sent revert, and that for the moment, to the family that, for the time, was again restored to the halls of their ancestors. I have already given a slight sketch of Louis the Eighteenth, and his public character has been sufficiently discussed. His presumptive heir, afterwards Charles the Tenth, was, in personal appearance and activity, the reverse of his brother ; and had they changed places in the succession, it might have been better for both and the country too. The French knew little more of the future Charles dix, than that he was a man of great gallantry in his youth, and had appeared in the south of France, under the auspices of a British general. These might not have been very great claims on their affection, but he vanquished all their scruples on his appearing among them by exclaiming, " Ce rH estqu un Franfciis de plus J 9 An epigram, in prose or verse, has great weight with our neighbours. As a pendant to this expres- sion, and a perfect contrast to it in the fact, I may PARIS. 109 be allowed to quote a similar phrase with a very different inference. The first man who fell in the progress of the revolution, occasioned a shock to the more feeling part of the community; but this was soon overborne by the mot of one of the by- standers, who exclaimed, " Ce rC est qu' tin homme de Moins" and Charles lived to see practically, if not in words, Ce n' est qvH un Hoi de Moins. I have no wish to write in disparagement of a fallen family, that has paid so fully for any faults they committed ; I only wish now to mention a characteristic of the race, that ought to give them the sympathy of the lovers of the chace. With the exception of Louis the 16th and 18th, and Ferdi- nand of Spain, the whole Bourbon race, French and foreign, have been " mighty hunters." The Kings of Spain, down to Charles the 4th, were celebrated for their love of field sports ; while the late and preceding King of Naples carried the passion to its utmost extent, and spent enormous sums in their bat- tues. It was the delassement of Louis the 14th and 15th. Louis the 18th confined himself perhaps to la chasse aux huitres, but his successor, his son, and nephew revived the long-forgotten field sports as 110 PARIS. soon as Charles came to the throne. Even amongst the first things of the restoration, the late Duke de Berri set out on an inspection of all the royal chases and forests, with a view of future sport. He had either to appoint new keepers, or put the present possessors in the way of their future duties. While visiting one of the royal domains not far from Paris, he met with two English officers, that were looking for rabbits. They were in shooting jackets, but did ever an Englishman abroad succeed in disguising himself? The Duke knew them at once, but he chanced to be at the moment a little out of humour, and asked the visitors in rather a brusque tone, what brought them there ? The first he addressed said, " What business is that to you?" " It is my business, sir," said the Duke (who spoke very good English); "this is a royal chace, and I am the Duke of Berri." " Very well," said the first speaker, " you may thank us for placing you where you are, and you need not grudge us the amusement of shooting a few rabbits." On this the Duke got much irritated, and said their conduct should be reported. He asked their names. The one who had not yet spoken, in giving his card, told the PARTS. Ill Duke that he might do what no man would volunteer. This affair was reported to head quar- ters, and a court martial was ordered on the officers, but the Due de Berri, although of irritable temper, was a man of kind disposition, and on further con- sideration of the matter, pleaded himself in favour of the offenders. This was the story current in the camp, that I never heard contradicted ; it may, however, be incorrect in the detail. All I know of my own is, that a court martial was ordered in the division to which the officers belonged, and afterwards cancelled. Some years afterwards J 9 assistai (as the French have it) a la chasse du Rou We were all assembled at la Muette, in the wood of St Germain, when the King drove up in his carriage with six horses. He alighted and mounted one of his horses. He, as well as the Dauphin, and all the courtiers, were dressed in the fashion of Louis 14th ; blue hunting coats with broad gold lace down the seams and edges, gold lace cockedhats, eachhavingat his side a couteau de chasse. The huntsmen piqueurs, &c, were all in similar costume, and carried the ancient crescent-shaped hunting horn of the olden 112 PARIS. time. Close to the King was an officer whose only business was to carry a rifle fixed in a stirrup, to hand to the King when the stag stood at bay. (Charles the Tenth would not allow any one but himself to have the honour of shooting the animal). There was all the officers belonging to the establish- ment of the grand veneur, the guardians of the forest, with a posse of gendarmerie de la chasse ; so that to ride in the rear of this mounted mob, it looked more like the reconnoisance of a general command- ing than a hunting party. All the ancient forms were revived, with the different calls on the horn, and the ceremony of handing the knife to the King or Dauphin, when the morte was sounded. The forest is 30 miles in circumference, but walled in, so that the stag has no chance. They galloped up and down the long avenues, changed horses after the first stag was killed, and then attacked another. Charles was equally fond of shooting, and used to have pheasants brought from Versailles the night before to St. Germains, which is a degree better than shooting tame ducks. I may remark here as a curious thing for so active a people as the French, that in their language they have no verbs to express PARIS. 113 — to ride, to walk, to drive, to hunt, to slioot. They have one, however — to dance, which must make up for the want of the rest. It struck me as a feeble sort of phrase, to say that the King was gone to St. Germain, a la chasse au tir. The Revolution of 1830 has put down all these royal chases, and the Kings have now no place to take exercise in near Paris, except the Bois de Boulogne ; and they had nowhere to stretch their legs, until they fenced off a portion of the garden of the Thuilleries, and if they choose to walk there, they must take their chance of the Fieschis and Alibeaus de la jeune France. I was strolling one day on the boulevard Italien, when, at the opposite side, I observed a young Englishman whose face I recollected. His father and I had been friends in early life, and I had fre- quently seen the young gentleman on his return home from Eton and Oxford. He was accompa- nied by a man, evidently a foreigner, of whom also I had some distant recollection, or at least thought I had seen his face before. My first impulse was to run across, and shake my young friend by the hand ; but on further reflection, I thought I should i 114 PARIS. like to see where his companion would lead him, as he was evidently playing the part of cicerone. I therefore followed them slowly up la rue Vivitnne and to the Palais Royal. I saw them enter one of the gambling houses, No. 80, and supposing that this foreigner might be a decoy bird leading my young friend into the trap, I pushed on, and entered the door immediately after them. They passed into the inner room, where was the rouge-et-noir table, and by keeping on the same side with them, I escaped observation. To my surprise, they went on without attempting to play, but taking merely a look at the players, they passed round the table and out at the door. They went afterwards to 154, and 89 ; but it was only to take the same casual glance at the people round the table. On leaving the Palais Royal by the great gate, they separated in the street, and I then went up and made myself known to my young friend, who was very glad of the encounter, as he had been nearly thrown out of acquaintance. He had letters to two guardsmen, but one had gone home on leave, and the other was going the next morning to see the review of the Russian army, at Vertus. " He wanted to take me PARIS. 115 there," said young -, " but I was too lazy ; and I have been all day in search of a cousin of mine who is on the staff, and, as a last resource, was looking for him among the gambling shops without success." " And who," said I, " was your com- panion in the chase ?" " Oh," said he, " that is F i, an Italian, who was prisoner on parole some years ago, in our neighbourhood, and as he could speak very good English, and was gentlemanlike in manners, my father used to have him sometimes to dine." My suspicions were lulled by this explanation, and my young friend and I continued to stroll along the English highway, that led us back to the boulevards. Chemin faisant, my companion in- formed me, that he had gone on in the usual way of young men of fashion at Oxford; had hunted three times a week, gone up to town on Saturday, &c. ; but that champaigne breakfasts, tandem driving, and sundry sports of the cloister, had occasioned him to run the Governor rather hard, who had been always very liberal, but the allow- ance was considerably exceeded ; that a quiet and gentle remonstrance, had, however, brought him up i 2 116 paris; suddenly ; lie had given the cut to all manner of larking, and had set to work to read with much assiduity. Three or four terms had thus passed, when his uncle, who had been a captain in John Company's Marine, died, and left him a fortune of £63,000, which he had accumulated in his several voyages. To this he had added a house in May Fair, carriage, and horses ; — last, not least, an excellent cellar of wine. " As to the latter," said , " I gave them up to the use of my father, who had recently sold his house in town. He is there now with my two sisters, and here am I, like Petruchio, ' Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home. ' And so am come abroad to see the world.' " The day was extremely hot, and we strolled on to Tortoni's. We had ordered some ice, when I observed my French friend at one of the tables. I introduced my English acquaintance, and they blundered on for some time, one talking bad Eng- lish, and the other worse French. At last, they hit on the more sensible mode of each speaking his own language, and by that means came to an under- standing. " Why," said I to , " you seem to have picked up some knowledge of French ; when PARIS. 117 I saw you last, you affected to despise all knowledge of what you called 'parlez vous. 9 " " Very true," replied he, " but at the time of my penitentiary fit of study, I took a fancy to learn, got a French master, and made such progress, that I can perfectly understand what is said, although, from diffidence, I have not got over the pons asino- rum of conversing." In this way we chatted for some time, when I asked the Frenchman if he was acquainted with F i? "Perfectly," said he. "We have just left him," replied I. " Comment done, F i a Paris, est il possible ? Why," continued he, "I saw him myself in the suite of Buonaparte, during the hundred days ; and I heard from others, that he must have joined soon after the landing of Cannes. What game can he be at here now, /' intriguant ?" Young seemed rather surprised at this description of his quondam friend, and said he had a mind to give him the dead cut; " although," con- tinued he, " I had accepted an invitation to dine 118 PARIS. with him to-morrow, and go to a soiree at his sister's in the evening." The Frenchman rather encouraged this view of the case, as he thought in all probability they would endeavour to entice him into play, and make a pigeon of him. I thought, however, we might draw some amusement from the affair. My yoiing friend was any thing but a spooney, and being put on his guard, would be " wide awake." g% Does he know," said I, " that you understand French ?" " Not in the least," said he ; u everything has been done by him in our progress through Paris." " Did you let him know the fortune you had got ?" " Oh yes," said he, " and, turned into francs, I find it makes a formidable row of figures." It was therefore settled, that he should keep his appointment, and meet us the day afterwards at Tortoni's to hear the result. At the appointed time he made his appearance at this icy off set of the Stock Exchange. He was ac- companied by his cousin, and both seemed in high spirits. PARIS. 119 " Apparently," said I, " your adventure has turned out well." " You shall hear," said he, "I met Squire F i as appointed, in the garden of the Palais Royal. He told me dinner would be ready in a few minutes, and asked me if I should like, in the mean time, to play a game of billiards. I said yes, supposing this might be a prelude to what was to come ; but rather to my surprise, he offered only to bet a franc, and lost the two games we played. We then went to the restaurateur, called Semestre ; the entrance, at the back of the Palais Royal, being rather dirty and forbidding, but the room itself looked to the garden. We had a good dinner, and the best Volny I ever drank, of which I was pressed to take full allowance, but remained on my guard. During dinner he in- formed me that his relations lived in the neighbour- hood of Turin, and had come to Paris to prosecute some claims on the French government, for confis- cations made by their generals in Piedmont. It has been some years since he had seen his sister, who had married Signor Sp — d — i, soon after he had been taken prisoner by the English. ' But,' said I, c Signor, I have heard here that you came to Paris 120 PARIS. in the suite of the ex-Emperor/ ' Oh. yes/ said he, after a moment's hesitation, c I happened to be at Grenoble at that time, and the general enthu- siasm carried every one away with the current. As Buonaparte knew my family in Piedmont, I thought it the best way to put a good face on the matter and join him. But I was the means of communi- cating some very useful information to Louis the 18th, which he thought deserving of some recom- pence. It was but trifling, but I have it in my pocket, a permis de sejour, signed by Fouche him- self.' After pressing me to have more wine, we took coffee, and then adjourned to the soiree of his sister. " I took particular notice of the w T ay we went, and observed the name of the street, rue Duphot, which 1 knew terminated on the boulevard Made- leine. We mounted up a long and dark staircase, and after passing through a small sort of vestibule, entered a billiard room. There were several per- sons there, but I remarked only the two players ; one a short pocked marked man, with mustachios and large whiskers, and the other a tall, sallow look- ing person, with lanky black hair. On my entrance, PARIS. 121 I caught a glance of a wink given by the first per- sonage, that was received with a sort of nod of assent by the second. F i and I, after a moment, passed on to the saloon, where we found his sister, seated on a sort of ottoman. She was apparently verging on forty, and had seen better days in the w 7 ay of beauty. Still, she was a comely looking sort of woman, and received me most graciously. I was placed by her side, and after lamenting that she had no English, and that I did not deal in Italian or French, we had a sort of conversation on common places, through the interpretation of her brother. I had seen two card tables, one of which was unoc- cupied, and another at which two or three people were knocking the dice about. At this time we were joined by our winking friends of the billiard room. The first, the winker, was introduced to me as Capt. C — p — i, of the Sardinian Service ; and the other, the winkee, was the mart of Madame. " After some expressive yawns, the lady asked me if I played at cards ; and her brother joining at the same moment, I said I played ecarte very indiffer- ently. ' Oh, then,' said she, 6 we will be a good match, as I am a very wretched player myself.' 122 PARIS. Accordingly, we were soon seated, and in a few minutes were surrounded by a considerable number of persons. I had taken only forty napoleons with me, was resolved not to borrow, and if they went, to retire as soon as possible ; but it would seem, if I was meant to be a pigeon, that I was to be coaxed to it, as I first beat the Signora, then two of her friends, then her husband, and then herself again. She forgot twice to mark the king, and got a rowing from her husband. During the play, and amidst the different noises and cries of Joucy fa, &c, I heard one say behind me 'etes vous sure? 9 and in reply, ' oui, certain, un millionaire 9 My good luck went on until a Russian officer became my opponent, although the persons near him seemed endeavouring to persuade him to go to the hazard table. The chances now came equal, I was beaten out, and my place also was taken by a foreigner. They asked me to make another table, but I declined, saying I would go into the next saloon to hear some music. I sauntered in there for a few moments, and then gradually sloping off to where I left my hat, made a retreat without beat of drum. On getting home, I found myself winner of thirty-five napoleons, which PARIS. 123 are to be disposed of as follows : I have ordered a dinner for ten at the Rocher de Cuncale, at sixty- francs a head. I shall bring four, and," addressing me, " do you the same, and we shall meet there at feeding time — six." I took with me two French officers, an English squire, his first visit to the continent, and a friend from the camp. The friends of the founder of the feast were young men, two of them in the guards ; and we had a right pleasant and jovial day, although I thought there w T ould be no end to the eating. We got home, however, soberly, between twelve and one. My young friend had several pressing in- vitations to repeat his visit to Signor F i's sister, but he had always engagements ready to decline them, as he said himself, la rue Duphot was "no go." CHAP. V. AN UTILITARIAN SQUIRE THE MORGUE POISSY A MAN TURNED INTO A RABBIT THE GAOL FEVER COCKNEY SPORTSMAN A FIELD DAY MEUDON MARSHAL BLUCHER BIGGOTIN I- —CRIMINAL LAW JURIES GAMBLING SHOPS VIEW OF PARIS THE SEINE HEALTH OF THE TROOPS A RESURRECTION OF POTS, PANS, A1SD KETTLES THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AUSTRIAN TROOPS REVIEW OF THE RUSSIAN ARMY NEAR EPERNAY. A country dog, I think, Is very like a country squire ; They both are only fit to sleep and stink, By their own fire. In short, they never are so entertaining, As when they 're fast asleep, or feigning. Crazy Tales, Schoromatoff, and ChromatofT, Koklophti, Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin, All proper men of weapons as e'er scofFd high Against a foe, 01 ran a sabre through skin. Byron. The following day my squirarchical friend took me a round not often pursued by the visitors of Paris. Architecture, painting, and sculpture had few charms for him ; he was all for statistics. He preferred les graders de reserve and les abbatoirs, to TARIS. 125 the facade of the Louvre ; admired the corn market, with Its metallic roof, rather than the Apollo or Venus ; was infinitely more at his ease in the Marche des Innocens, than in the picture gallery; and the fountains in the markets attracted his notice much more than the gobelins. He gave a sort of approbation to the handsome quays along the Seine, but thought they were of no use, as there were no vessels moored to them ; and said the river itself was only a dirty ditch, infested with washerwomen. Excepting the clumsy vessels loaded with wood and charcoal, and some floating baths, there was nothing to be seen to characterize a river flowing through a capital, whose surface was not even enlivened by a passage-boat or wherry. " These Frenchmen," said he, " should take a lesson from their yankee friends, who would teach them what it was to have a water privilege." These remarks were made by my friend as we proceeded along the quay. I there pointed out to him a part of the Pont Neufj a favorite leaping place for those who drown themselves. This naturally excited a wish to see the Morgue, where 126 TARIS. the dead bodies are deposited. It is a singular thing, that in French, the same word expresses the height of arrogant pride, and its antithesis, the receptacle of the lowest and last stage of human misery and degradation. All the bodies of those that are picked up in the river by accident, or found in the nets placed near St. Cloud for that purpose, are brought to the Morgue; as well as those who perish by other modes of self-destruction or accident. At this time, water was getting passee, and suffocation by charcoal was the fashion- able mode of suicide. Some, more poetical in their fancies, leaped off the towers of Notre Dame, or from the top of the column in the Place Ven- dosme. They all, eventually, found their way to the Morgue. The bodies were disposed in double row in a floating barge ; and it was, at the same time, a pitiable and disgusting sight, to see the friends and relations of persons who had been missing, walk between this display of corpses, and glance with fear and trembling at each face exposed to view. The kind of business-like air of the people in the bureau, and unconcern of all employed, PARIS. 127 added to the melancholy impression previously- produced. As we passed over the Pont Neuf, (old enough now), to that part where it rests on the island, the centre of ancient and modern Paris, we turned off to the left, to look at a monument raised to the memory of Dessaix, and now serving as a frontis- piece to a fountain, a paltry affair, and quite un- worthy of the hero; from thence to the Prefecture, where my friend had to change his temporary passport, for the one he left at Calais. This opera- tion took up about half an hour, during which I could observe my country gentleman getting very fidgetty, at last ; we made our way through a double row of persons, apparently peasants, sitting like " patience on a monument." " Who were those people we passed ?" said the squire, as we gained the court yard. " Those," said I, " are country labourers, waiting for a visa to their passports, when wishing to remove." "A veryprettty specimen," exclaimed my friend, " of French liberty. Here am I obliged to tramp all this way, and wait half an hour for a mere formality; but that is nothing compared to these poor working men losing half a 128 PARIS, day or more of their labour, to procure permission to move about in their own country ; it is quite shameful." Seeing that the Morgue and the Prefec- ture had stirred up my countryman's bile, I ordered a coach, and we drove off to the great wine market. This had the effect of soothing down my friend's ruffled feathers, and he took the greatest interest in all the details of this magnificent establishment. It was late when we left the quay St. Bernard, and I pitied the son of the squire, a boy of 14, who seemed little to participate in the delights of his Pa. On arriving on the Boulevards, we met some French friends two of them had been of our party the preceding day. We agreed all to dine together, and for that purpose adjourned to a restaurateur up stairs, close to the Italian Opera. Among other articles of food set before us, was un chapon a gros sel, (a boiled capon.) It was very fat, and the fattest portion fell to the youth just mentioned. He tried it on for some time, but was at last " dead beat." His father observing the state of his plate, read him a lecture on his fastidiousness, told him he should learn to eat whatever he met with that was wholesome, and insisted on his finishing the rejected PARIS. 129 fat. The poor boy, with melancholy looks, set about the task, and succeeded at last, rather by bolting than eating. When this was in progress, I observed the Frenchmen nearly dead with sup- pressed laughter ; afterwards, when at liberty, they gave full scope to their merriment, and often during my stay in Paris did I hear about the fat capon. I dare say that they put it down as a characteristic of the English, that they made their children swallow fat meat, nolens volens. The capon was, however, washed down with some good wine, and the evening passed pleasantly enough. We went afterwards to the Varietes, to see Potier in Les Ang- laises pour rire^ and then returned to our abodes. As we parted for the night, my rural friend asked me if I had any engagement for the next day ? to which I answered, without consideration, " No." " Well, then/' said he, " I have an excursion that I hope will give us both information and amusement, and I shall be with you very early in the morning." After he left me, I began to have some misgivings as to what my friend meant by information and amusement; I guessed, however, that this day hav- ing been devoted to utilitarian objects, the next K 130 PARIS. would be of a lighter cast, probably a jaunt to Versailles, taking the porcelain manufacture of Sevres, in the way. The next morning the squire and his boy were with me before seven o'clock, and I had to hurry out of bed. "Well," said I, "where are we bound to so early?" " You know," said he to me, <* that I am one of the visiting justices of the county, and have, of course, a good deal to do with prison discipline ; in fact, the principal arrangements, and even the plan of our new Bridewell were submitted to me before I left home. I am very anxious to see how they carry on things in Paris, one always may pick up a hint ; therefore, I propose," continued he, " if you have no objection, to make an inspection of the prisons of Paris and the neighbourhood." My heart died within me ; but I could not now retract. To the disappointment of the squire, and my great delight, we were refused admittance into one or two prisons. We drove to St. Pelagie, but this, as well as the prisons of Paris, were crowded with political offenders, whom there had not been time to classify ; all seemed hurry and confusion, PARIS. 131 while the jailors and turnkeys were not in the most obliging mood. Our excursion was thus far terminated by eleven o'clock, when we went to breakfast at De Gacq's. " Thinks I to myself," it is well it is no worse. We made great progress with cuisse de dindon a la tartare, rognons au vin de champagne, sausages, omelette, cafe au lait, &c, when I was asked which was the best way to get to Poissy ? "Poissy," said I, "my good fellow, what do you want to do there ?" " Oh," said he, " that is part of my day's plan. There is a celebrated prison, used partly as a peni- tentiary; and you know that it is the great cattle market." I was regularly victimized, but still had hopes that we should not find the means of conveyance. You cannot order a chaise in Paris, without you have the chaise in your posssession ; so we sallied forth to the quay to look for, what I hoped we should not find, a cabriolet for Poissy. In those days there were no short stages, none nearer on that road than Mantes. One of these passed us on the way, but I did not acquaint my companion that k 2 132 PARIS. it could set us down ; so on we trudged to the ex- tremity of the garden of the Thuilleries, and there, to my annoyance, was a cabriolet for Poissy, just going to start. Still it might be full. "Is there any room?" said I, in a faint voice. ( ' Oui, monsieur, deux places dans la voiture, et un lapin ici" putting his hand on the bench on which he was seated. * As I did not understand about the rabbit, I sup- posed there was a basket of them to be taken up by the way, and that I had lost my chance. I accord- ingly handed my friend and his boy up, and was about to take leave, when the driver called out to me, " Montez, monsieur, montez, voila votre place" shewing me the seat beside himself. I reluctantly obeyed, and found that I was myself le lapin, which is the slang name among the Jehus of Paris for a cabriolet outside. My feelings of friendship were something on the wane, until turning round, I observed I had got some degree of revenge, by my companion being wedged in among a parcel of greasy butchers, and drovers from Poissy, returning home after deliver- ing their beasts. The fresh air and the drive served TAltlS. 133 to assist me in devouring my chagrin. The stir and bustle in the Champs Elysees continued till we passed the Bois de Boulogne; then the interest rather ceased, and allowed me to observe the limp- ing pace at which we were getting on. The horse seemed so high in bone, and was so stiff, that he appeared to be made of wood. We jogged on over the pave at a very dull rate. Near Nanterre there is a district of about a mile and a half, on each side the road, planted entirely with rose bushes, for the benefit of the perfumers of Paris, While the trees are in flower, the passage of the territory is very grateful. On arriving at Nanterre, to my horror the driver baited his horse, leaving us the pastime of eating les gateaux de Nanterre, and drinking brandy. With this delay, and the long drag up the hill of St. Germain, three mortal hours and a half were consumed in going over these thirteen miles. From this place to the abbatoirs in Paris the cattle are driven, when required. The animals leave the paved causeway, and travel on the soft road at each side. In wet weather the ground becomes slippery, and where the first ox finds stability for his feet, 134 PARIS. the succeeding ones glide into the place, so that in a little time the mud gets forced up into ridges like small waves. When these dry, either by the sun or frost, the sides of the road are impracticable for carriages. We had great difficulty in fighting our way through this horrible town of Poissy. After being trundled out of the cabriolet, it was no easy matter to get to our destination — the doors of the prison. Here all my friend's cares seemed to be at an end. He soon discovered that the place was both a punishment, and reformation school ; and also a depot for those condemned to le Bagne, who were marched off at stated periods (attached to a chain) for Toulon. At this intelligence I observed the squire draw forth his tablets, make a memo- randum, and I have no doubt he would witness the departure of la chaine, if it took place during his stay in France. On the information that the pri- soners on the reformation side were allowed to work at their trades, and that a portion of earnings thus effected were laid up in reserve, to give them a starting point at their discharge, my friend was delighted. I fain would have staid in the bureau, as I disliked the nature of our pleasure jaunt in toto* PARIS. 135 The place had to me that sort of poulticy smell, similar to an hospital, as if the walls had been washed with water gruel ; but as I had the task of explaining, I was obliged to sink my repugnance. I waded through all the wards and divisions with my visiting justice. Never did I see any man who had the jail fever so strong.* Just as we cleared the prison walls, the diligence from Mantes made its appearance, on its way to Paris. I did not conceal my knowledge this time, but hailed the driver at once ; my companion, how- ever, interposed by saying, we had not yet seen the cattle market. " Oh never mind the cattle market at present; if we miss this chance of getting into Paris, we shall have to sleep amongst the drovers, or walk to St. Germain. 1 gave my prison amateur no chance for consideration, but tumbled him into the short stage. There were two bodies joined, each of six seats. In that part in which we found room, there were only two other persons, both young men, one of whom was in the full equipment * This genius is since dead, and I have heard, that nearly the last words he spoke were in regret that the New Bridewell had not been finished. 136 PARIS. of a chasseur. After we Lad got settled in our places, this liero began to recount his exploits to his junior ; it being quite clear, that both were thorough bred badauds of Paris. I heard a sort of topogra- phical sketch of the country in the vicinity of Mantes, and the many adventures the armed gentle- man had met with in his pursuit of game, to which his younger companion "inclined an attentive ear," and seemed highly interested in the detail. He asked his friend to let him see some of the spoils of the day, but the sportsman was evidently coy on this point; I, therefore, threw in a word, expressive of curiosity, when the game bag was reluctantly opened, and we got a view of a thrush, two black- birds, four sparrows, and a small bird like a torn tit. I believe this grand chasseur autir would have been better satisfied to have let the contents of his game bag remain a mystery, as he continued silent for a long time afterwards. When we had descended the hill at St. Ger- mains, our route was along the banks of the Seine. Before reaching Marly, and under the bank of an island in the river, there appeared two or three water hens swimming about ; our sportsman half PARIS. 137 raised liis gun, and called out in a magnanimous tone, " Voila des plongeons" " Des plongeons ?" exclaimed the younger cockney, "qu J est ceque ce'st qxC un plongeon, est il zm animal ? The senior seemed absolutely to blush for the ignorance of his friend, and begun to explain to him what aplongeon was, which he seemed to know very little more about himself, than that it was certainly a kind of bird that rejoiced in the water. I found that these two youths had got a holiday, and had gone down to Mantes on invitation, to have some shooting. The junior being a sleeping partner, he had walked out to witness his friends exploits, but soon got fatigued with the heat of an August sun, and had retired to more sedentary amusements. The liberality of the French is very great in the way of shooting, all seasons are the same to them, and they would as soon kill a bird flushed off her eggs, as on any other occasion ; game consequently diminishes very rapidly, and is now dearer to buy in Paris than in London. As in the case of this youth, most Frenchmen dp the same when they go a la chasse ; if they cannot meet with partridges or pheasants, they shoot any thing they can meet with. 138 PARIS. This sporting episode something relieved the tedium of the way, which, however, we accom- plished in nearly an hour less than our outward bound voyage, when I was doing duty as un lapin. A good dinner and bottle of wine in Paris, made me soon forget prison discipline, droves of oxen, and Cockney sportsmen. Addressing my friend, I said, " Now, my good fellow, I have ridden to-day behind you on your hobby, will you let me give you a jolt on mine? We are to have a field day to-morrow ; you will see a good handful of troops, and our general (Clinton) can handle a division as well as any one in the camp." I scarcely expected an acceptance of this invite, but it was given. The squire I found had been dabbling in yeomanry affairs before leaving home, and was very anxious to see a body of troops in motion, but hitherto had not been able to get any precise information when a division field day was to take place. I gave him directions how to find us out, and he was on the ground, with his boy, before us. He was much pleased with the whole affair, and talked it over as he went back with me to breakfast in Boulogne. Afterwards I proposed an excursion in our neigh- TARIS. 139 bourlioocl. We got a cabriolet, and went to Sevres. The smaller pieces of china are hardly, if at all, superior to our Worcester china, but they excel in the manufacture of large vases, of which there are several handsome specimens at St. Cloud. The man who attended us, explaining, was always impressing the royalty of the concern, which fidgetted my friend very much, and shortened our stay. On getting out, he let loose his John Bullish ideas. " How I hate," said he, " kings and governments becoming dealers and chapmen ; whe- ther they trade in road making or banking, or in sell- ing snuff and crockery by retail, it is disgusting." To change his ideas, I desired the man to drive us to Meudon. This is one of the finest situations in the vicinity of Paris ; there is a charming view of the capital and the valley of the Seine, at the same time a retirement almost perfect ; there are beautiful walks and drives in the neighbouring wood, while the air has a certain feeling of fresh- ness and elasticity that is quite delightful. The palace, or house, has nothing particular about it. It had been recently the abode of the roiklet, called the King of Etruria. We found the concierge in 140 PARIS. high indignation at the Prussians, for invading the abode of this mighty monarch. Some gilt knobs and projections of his Majesty's bed these northern soldiers took for gold, and broke them off, but found in France, as elsewhere, " all is not gold that glis- ters." The grounds in front of the house had been the scene of a conflict between the Prussian light troops and a detachment sent out from Paris. We found the ground in some places covered with the remains of burnt cartridges. On returning to St. Cloud, I recollected a way of getting into the garden attached to the chateau, and took my friends there. It was still the head quarters of Blucher, but was to be given up in a day or two to the King. We strolled through the grounds without meeting any one, until we came in front of the palace, when, to my surprise, I observed the Prince of Wahlstadt himself, walking on the terrace, without his hat, and puffing away at his merschaum. We would have retired directly, but he beckoned us to advance, and after saying a few civil things, ordered a servant to show us the palace. This exhibition was nothing to my friend in comparison with the feeling of PARIS, 141 having spoken to old Blucher, and having had so full a look at his moustaches. This hero, who had been nearly killed with kindness by the women in England, and galloped over at Ligny, was now in high preservation, enjoying his pipe. My English friend could talk of nothing else. We took an early dinner at the restaurateur, in the public gar- den of St. Cloud, and drove into Paris to see the divine Biggotini, at the French opera. In point of scenery, we have, in the London theatres, equalled, if not excelled our neighbours ; but in the grouping of figures, the unity and pre- cision of the chorus dancers, we fall far short of them, even at the Italian Opera, in London. The Parisian dancers, are infinitely better drilled than their soldiers. Duty detained me for two days near the camp, and when I next met my squire, I had got over the alarm about prisons, but found him just starting for le palais dejudice^ where an interesting trial was to come on. I had no objection to join in this expe- dition, which ended in disappointment, by the absence of a material witness ; the trial was post- 142 PARTS. poned, a thing of rare occurrence, and one or two trivial cases were tried. It is curious to observe in two nations, both in a state of high civilization, and immediate neighbours, the great difference that exists in the suppression of crime and administration of justice; each pursuing a different course, and both, in my idea, carrying their theories to the extreme. With us, when a man charged with any offence is taken up for exa- mination, the first thing he hears is an admonition to say nothing that may inculpate himself; if there is sufficient evidence, he is committed for trial. When that takes place he is called on to plead, a thing in itself of great absurdity, and the refusal to do so subjects a prisoner (or, at least, did do so) to be placed in torture. Suppose a man, when called on to plead, would return a reasonable answer, that he did not choose to say whether he was guilty or not ; that the court was there for the express pur- pose of finding that out; — would not this person be subject to the peine forte et dure ? If a man is really culpable, and does not wish to conceal it, he pleads guilty; half a dozen voices are directly raised, "pray, my good fellow, do not distress us by saying PARIS. 143 so, do alter your plea." He is thus persuaded to alter his pleading. If found guilty at last, he has thus added a premeditated lie to his offence, at the suggestion of the court. Our Draconian code has been of late much mitigated ; it has been disco- vered, in the words of a celebrated modern novel writer, " that hanging does not at all improve any man," and we have, further, allowed counsel to the prisoner, a thing long denied. Query, would it have been so long resisted if a fund had been esta- blished for paying the lawyers ? When a wretch is overwhelmed with grief and remorse, that confound his ideas, to deny him the privilege of having ano- ther to speak for him was, at least, ungenerous, and in the present day would have been altogether pre- posterous, when we listen to advocates pleading the cause of rebels in arms. In France they dispose of the lion's skin before the beast is caught, or killed. In the notices sent out of the commission of a crime, similar to our " Hue and cry," a description is given of the sup- posed offender, his age, stature, personal marks, the department where he comes from, and the name of the place where the offence was committed, the 144 PARIS. crime the man is charged with, and, finally, the punishment that awaits him without mitigation. When caught, and brought up for examination, the culprit finds that he is really before a beak, and a sharp one too, who does every thing in his power to make the man confess his guilt. He is, in course, committed for trial as with us ; but the case is then altogether different. There is, to be sure, a jury, and counsellors employed, but the judge himself is the "cock of the walk," and seems to do every thing, being in himself judge, jury, and counsel, against the prisoner. I w r as once at a trial at the assizes at Versailles. An Italian servant was tried for robbing his master, an English officer- There could be but little doubt of the fellow's guilt, but it was impossible not to feel some degree of pity for him, when witnessing the trial. The judge, I suppose, thought himself very clever in his line ; and certainly Garrow never shewed greater ingenuity in extracting confessions from a reluctant witness, than this judge in pump- ing the prisoner. The sweat rolled down the man's cheeks in the agony of this mental inquisition. He was questioned as to his " whereabout" for the PARIS. 145 previous six weeks; made to recollect conversations; the discrepancy between his first declaration before the magistrate was contrasted with his present ad- missions; and, finally, the poor wretch was so bewildered, that I verily believe he knew not what lie said. It may be fairly asked then, can a person who thus prides himself on the talent of worrying a man into a confession, before a public auditory, — can he all at once throw off the character of a counsellor, (I should rather say a tormentor) and become in a moment a cool and impartial judge? Under such a regime what can be the use of a jury? The institution seems to me to be an exotic in France. In the only case where it might be a protection to the people, trials for political offences, it is done away with ; these are referred to the Chamber of Peers, a tribunal that can have no sympathy or fel- low-feeling with, this class of offenders. In 1815 the gambling houses and lotteries were in full exercise. These have been treated of so often, that it would be superfluous to dilate on their effects, particularly as they are now both abolished. The lottery had a baneful influence on the commu- L 146 PARIS* nity, by its constant activity and the smallness of the stake that was admitted ; it kept whole families in a perpetual gambling fever, fed by occasional success. But I think, in such a capital as Paris, the gaming tables were not that unmixed evil that has been generally supposed. In my idea, if a fee of admission had been exacted, to bar out persons from playing for small sums, they would not have been objects to complain of. Young lads and bo}-s were rigidly excluded ; and when people went into these houses they were free from any alarm of personal violence, and were quite secure of not being cheated. Will they have these advantages in the new resorts that have since sprung up, simi- lar to the dens in London called clubs ? # There was great noise made in Paris at that time about Blucher having broken a bank. He had gone to one of these houses, a man following him with a bag full of napoleons. He laid it on thick at rouge et noir, had a run, and escaped the trente et * The new hells in Paris have been speedily put down by the domiciliary visits of the police. In England we must put up with the nuisance, in fear of trenching on John Bull's liberties, by invading his castle. PARIS. 147 U7i apres ; so that in little time lie won all the daily stock of the house, 50,000 francs. This sounds large in tenpennies, but is only £2000, a sum often laid in England on any single event. Winning the money in the house can hardly be called break- ing a bank, as it was replaced in half an hour after- wards, but was sufficiently alarming to the bankers to make them establish a rule afterwards, not to stake more than 12,000 francs at a time. It used to surprize people that Blucher, who could have been no favorite in Paris, trusted him- self out so much among the population, with the additional temptation of a man following with a bag of gold; but though he had seldom any other attendants, I never heard of his receiving the least insult. The weather continued very dry and hot. By the end of August all the trees in the Palais Royal were stripped of their leaves, as bare as in winter, and several others in the avenues suffered partially in the same way. To look at that time at Paris from the hill of St. Cloud, it did not require much stretch of imagination to suppose it an eastern city. It stood out clear and distinct in the sun, while the l 2 148 PARIS. shining dome of les Invalides might have added to the illusion ; in the intervening space, and all round the town, the earth was " in russet mantle clad," not a bit of verdure to be seen anywhere. There was nothing, however, that could be construed into a palm tree on the wide extended plain. The Bois de Boulogne appeared a dark mass in the picture. The Seine had not been known so low for twenty years previously ; indeed, at the end of September and beginning of October, a man might have waded across it in many places below Paris, with the water not higher than his knees, sufficient of itself to have shewn the futility of the attempt that was afterwards made to render the river navigable. A dredging machine was sent over from England, but it was like the work of the Danaids, labour without end. In fact, during floods, such a quantity of sand is brought down, as to bar all hopes to that effect. The navigation from Paris to Rouen is constantly impeded by banks, often shifting their positions. Below the latter place the river is confined by high grounds, and being aided by tributary streams, keeps the channel pretty free, as far as Villequier ; there it opens, and being near the effects of the sea PARIS. 149 tides, the water, often assisted by powerful winds acting in a contrary sense, is kept in constant agi- tation, the sand being held, as I may say, in a state of solution. Whirlpools are formed, and if once a vessel touches, she runs a great chance of founder- ing. I saw near this village two brigs that were sunk, or rather their masts above water, caught in these eddies, that combine a whirlpool with a quick- sand. Further down, at Quillebeuf, the river is completely barred by a sand bank extending across, which prevents anything going up or down about the time of low water, a great drawback on Rouen as a seaport. I once waited at Quillebeuf for the flood tide. The bank was nearly quite bare in its whole extent. It was rather a fine sight to observe the flood (a spring tide) aided by a fresh north west breeze, rise on the sea side of the bank, and when it had gained the summit, fall over into the river, like a cataract. In any improvements projected in the navigation of the Seine, they should begin by cutting a clear passage through this sand bank of Quillebeuf. A project much morelikely to succeed, is a railway from Havre to Paris, that will give nearly as many 150 PARIS. advantages as if the river was accessible to vessels of burthen. It may, in some degree, make Paris a commercial place ; at present they have limited notions on that subject. Had the whole of France in early times been an united kingdom, they would scarcely have fixed the capital where it now stands. Whatever effects the long continued dry weather had on the navigation, it was very beneficial to the health of the troops encamped. We had fewer men ill than in barracks in England. There was just enough for them to do to prevent habits of idleness being engendered, and nothing to tease or plague them, and they had abundance of good food. The situation of those officers who had billets in Bou- logne was pleasant enough ; mine was in the high road, and at the house of a retired washerman and his wife, a very civil old couple, that did everything they could for my accommodation. I, however, was sometimes at a loss for trifling things, but when I asked for them is was always a tantot, a tantot. I began to think this, by and bye, would never arrive. At last, when, I suppose, I had sufficiently gained the confidence of my host, and he had fixed on his time for the ceremony, he told me that he had, PARIS. 151 on the approach of the Prussians, buried his most valuable effects in the garden in front of the house, and he invited me to be present at the disinterment. I found that it was a sort of jour defete with the old couple, and that they had invited their daughter and son in law to dinner, to try the virtue of the uten- sils so long buried. I was present when they broke ground, and never can I expect to see again such a resurrection of saucepans, stewpans, and gridirons. There were about a dozen silver forks and as many spoons, and a soup ladle ; but beside them, the Prussians must have had prodigious stomachs for plunder, if they had found any thing else worth carrying away. The old blanchisseur and his wife were, however, in great delight at again seeing their dear utensils brought to light. They had a very merry evening on the occasion, and that T might be in some measure a partaker in their joys, they sent me up a present of fine peaches. The front of their house looked to the high road from St. Cloud to the wood, and although not the most direct way to Paris, yet it was much frequented, particularly by the English, as they got by that means a glimpse of our camp. Among those whom 152 PARIS. I most frequently observed passing was the Emperor of Austria. He was generally in a caleche with a pair of horses, and a servant behind in livery. He was often alone in the carriage, dressed in a plain white uniform, without any decoration. He was, I believe, rather popular in Paris, although he had left Buonaparte in the lurch. It was, therefore, pro- bably on his daughter's account, joined to his own kind and quiet manners. From all accounts I have heard of him, Francis the Second was generally es- teemed among foreigners, and beloved by his own subjects. He was their Kezar — their father ; and to hear the Austrians speak of him, no one could dream of his being called a tyrant. Yet the book of Sylvio Pellico would lead to that inference. It is the misfortune of absolute governments, that to the most active monarch it must be requisite to de- pute a great portion of his authority, and things, supposed to be referred to his personal decision, often never reach his sight; otherwise, ridicule would mix with cruelty, in supposing that Pellico had to apply to the Emperor himself for permission to knit a pair of mittens, and keep a tame sparrow. PARIS. 153 111 all probability Francis never heard of the Italian, before his book was published. I believe the feeling, at least in this country, was that of satisfaction, on the dominions of Francis being restored to him. He was certainly the best and most constant ally we had during the struggle with France. Although frequently "down," he was always ready to come again to the " scratch " whenever a favourable chance offered, and the want of success was by no means his fault, but of the Austrian military system altogether, which shackled the movements of the few men they had who were capable of commanding their armies. They failed also by their want of timely concentration, that allow r ed their active enemy to be in the field before them, and to defeat their armies in detail; yet, when properly handled, no troops could behave better. Witness the whole campaign of 1799 ; — when op- posed to the French on fair and equal terms, they showed all the first rate qualities of soldiers. Wit- ness the battles of Aspan and Essling, which were fought in a sort of cock-pit on the banks of the Da- nube, and where the French were defeated and obliged to retire to the Isle of Loban with loss. 154 PARIS. The greatest weakness of the Austrian troops is their fear of being turned, which the French took all advantage of, and practised almost constantly against them the system of columns of attack, to penetrate any given part of the line. Its success will at once account for the immense number of prisoners taken from the Austrians in the different actions in which their enemies were successful. The principal part of the Austrian army, with head quarters, was in the neighbourhood of Dijon. Another corps d' armee was, however, in observa- tion on the Italian frontier. To my apprehension the weakness of Austria will be always in her Italian possessions, which are separated from the parent state, and in great measure insulated. This will be also the most difficult portion to defend in future wars with France. A few regiments of Austrians were in the neighbourhood of Paris, and found es- corts for those portions of the works of art that were destined to be restored to Venice and the Milanese, of which I shall speak afterwards. In personal ap- pearance the Austrians seem to me to differ very much from the rest of the Germans, at least, in that class from which the troops are drawn. The men are PARIS. 155 stout and tall, and what is called well set up. They have, withal, a heavy look about them, and their sal- low, dark complexions add to this expression ; it differs from the brown colour of their southern neighbours, as it is rather a sickly sort of yellow that pervades their faces. They are well clothed and appointed, and their light troops are amongst the best of their class ; they form a very large propor- tion of their armies, including the light cavalry. There were scarcely any Russian troops in Paris — some grenadiers a cheval and cossacks of the guard, to attend on the Emperor. The great body of the army was encamped in Champagne. It was reviewed there by the Emperor, and many officers went from Paris to witness it ; they were, however, rather dis- appointed, considering the number of the troops. The army was drawn out in two columns, or, rather, masses, each estimated at 100,000 men; but owing to the closeness of formation, and being drawn out on the vast plain of Vertus, the numbers appeared less than they really were. They performed some evolutions with sufficient precision, but so slowly, that it was remarked, that a British or French army would have danced round them during the forma- 156 TARIS. tions. The Russians have some good qualities as soldiers;— r-they are easily fed and lodged, are patient of hardships, and immoveable under the heaviest fire in defensive positions. They are not, however, well calculated (the infantry, I mean) for aggressive movements. The tallest and best made men are generally selected for the guard and cavalry ; the general run of the infantry is far below the standard of other European nations, a great many being not more than five feet in height — some even lower. They are clothed in thick warm coats, suited to their climate, but very heavy ; and their arms and accoutrements are of the same kind, useful but pon- derous. They are thus, in a measure, physically unfit for very rapid movements, and the soldiers are, besides, wanting in individual intelligence, so that, once broken or put into confusion, it is next to im- possible to bring them into shape again. The Russian armies also labour under two heavy disad- vantages; their medical staff and appliances are very defective, and the commissariat absolutely nil. Frugal as they are, a Russian army would have ab- solutely starved in Spain. The military resources and power of Russia have TARIS. 157 of late been the subjects of much discussion in this country, and as usual where information is difficult to be obtained, reports and statements are liable to great exaggeration. The progress of that people depends more on their intrigues, and the apathy of the other nations of Europe, than in anything they possess as a military power. More than another age will elapse before she can compete in the field with the nations of Europe, principally from the causes I have stated above. In confirmation I would point out, that nearly all the actions in which the Russians have gained, or nearly gained, success, have been these in which there were the least occasion for manoeuvres; — Trebbia, Prussish Eylau, Borodino, Malo Jaroslavitz, were all fought in defensive posi- tions. Leipsic was an offensive action, but it scarcely differed from the others, inasmuch as there were no movements required ; — it was a fight in a cock-pit. Russia could not have taken an active part in the invasion of France, if English money had not put her armies into motion, both in the campaigns of 1814 and 1815. When left to herself, after the experience gained in these wars, w T hat a poor figure she cut in her attack on Turkey. 158 PARIS. She lost the first campaign, and 100,000 men, and would never have passed the Balkan, opposed by any other enemy than the degenerate Turks. Even now, we see this, so called, mighty empire held at bay by a handful of brave mountaineers of Circassia. Notwithstanding this incapability to cope with the more enlightened nations of Europe, the power of Russia requires to be looked after, particularly in the direction in which she is now stretching her arms. A nation of slaves, assisted by discipline and a certain degree of military intelligence, will be sure to be an overmatch for any other people living under the same political tenure, but deprived of military organization. The military colonies of Russia form a powerful engine. Even the physical effects of climate will tell. The Muscovite, accus- tomed to the delicious climate of the east, will feel not the least anxiety to return to his own frozen regions, and will be more ready to comply with the behests of the Czar, when he sees before him both the prospect of probable plunder, and fine climate. Persia, without aid, must soon fall an easy prey. The ambition of the Russ will never be satisfied, until the Eagle floats on the walls of the Seraglio, PARIS. 159 and the Emperor holds the keys of the Dardanelles in his hands. France and England ought to look to this, and force the bear to stay at home, other- wise they will find it difficult to rouse him from his southern lair, once he has fully established himself there. One of the most notable instances of this silent encroachment may be found at the embou- chure of the Danube, where the Russians have erected their toll gates, and endeavour to make the commerce of Germany tributary. The gross and unjustifiable attack on the independent Circassians, on false pretences, may be added. CHAP. VI. MARCH OF FASHION ANGLOMANIA A FRENCH DANDY THE LADIES* LEGS MANTUA MAKERS MADAME DE STAEL MADAME RECAMIER PARISIAN SHOPS THE ROW IN THE PICTURE GALLERY REMOVAL OF THE STATUES— ROM AN ANECDOTE THE CORINTHIAN HORSES FLIRTING IN THE GALLERY WALTER SCOTT CLIPPING THE KING'S ENGLISH. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this Fashion is 1 Shakespeare. She then surveys, condemns, but pities stili Her dearest friends for being drest so ill ; One has false curls, another too much paint, A third— where did she buy that frightful turban? A fourth 's so pale she fears she 's going to faint, A fifth looks vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban. By pon. Quoi ces monumens choris, Histoire, De notre gloire. S' ecrou leraient en debris ! Quoi! les Prussiens a Paris! Beranger. In speaking of Paris at any period, it may be expected that something should appear relative to the fashions, although, in point of fact, little can be PARIS. 161 said. The fame of the French capital, in that re- spect, is more traditional than founded on the actual claims of the present generation. During the ancien regime people had little else to do than mark the changes of fashion, and to gain a facility in con- versation, which were the two great objects of study. These were more or less stimulated, according to the taste of the reigning monarch. In the reigns of Louis the 14th and 15th, they were carried to the highest point, but fell rather into disuse during that of Louis 16th, whose reserved and retired habits threw a slight check on the frivolities of the court. Of all the powers that be, none dread the excite- ment of political parties and disputes so much as the empire of fashion. It is entirely discomposed by the least breeze that ruffles the smooth surface of society, and delights in cultivating its selfish follies and exclusiveness, undisturbed within its own im- mediate circle. The reigns of the three kings I have named were, therefore, the periods when this brazen goddess was most worshipped. Paris was, for all that time, her principal court and station, and her uncontradicted laws all emanated from thence; — tempora mutantur. The revolution not only over- M 162 PARIS. turned the throne and religion of the country, but with them the laws, morals, and fashions of the people. In the times I have alluded to, men, as well as women, were the slaves or victims of fashion. It was thought no misuse of time for a man to waste two hours nt his toilette, under the hands of his per- ruquier and valet de chambre ; — they were powdered to the eyes, and many of them used paint. It is needless to say, that they were extremely fastidious in the quality and make of their clothes. In some of our earliest novels, the hero is made to appear at some splendid ball or assembly, " in a coat of the true Parisian cut." At the commencement of the revolution all the court dandies disappeared, a new race of men sprung up into their places, who were by no means so particular as to dress. The cut away coat, with polished buttons, and embroidered waistcoats, went into banishment ; soon after, the swords, and chapeaux de bras ; the shoes, stockings, buckles, and breeches, w T ere superseded by panta- loons and half boots. The last vestige of the old times was hair powder, and having the hair in queue. I* iright have been thought that the reign of terror PARIS. 163 would have banished the last appendage, as it was much in the way of the proceedings of St. Guillo- tine ; but it remained for some years afterwards. I can recollect seeing the French soldiers during the two last years of last century, when every man wore a tail to his head, and had a powder bag and puff as part of their kit. What few gentlemen of independent property remained after the emigration, were finally dispersed by the measures of Robespierre and Co. Most of them were glad to join the armies, as a refuge against persecution. It may not be too much to say, that the only persons remaining in Paris at that time were, professional people, philosophers, literary men, and artistes. All standard of fashion was, therefore, lost for the he creatures, and they had to look abroad for models, as they had nothing of their own but military uniforms. When, therefore, the peace of Amiens sent many of our dandies across the water, the Anglomania set in with astonishing force ; — every thing English was copied, and some- times awkwardly enough. Some people went near to choak themselves in folding quantities of muslin round their throats, after the manner of the Prince m 2 164 PARIS. of Wales. The coats and waistcoats were all ac- cording to the English fashion ; but what occasioned furor were English leather breeches. The French- men wore them with brown top and black boots when riding, and every where else ; they were in- inseparable from their leathers ; they used even to go to evening parties with them, wearing shoes and stockings. After the rupture of that peace, or, rather, truce, the nation became, under the Emperor, more warlike than ever. Nothing was to be seen but uniforms ; the tailors nearly forgot how to make coloured clothes, and had no model or standard to go by. In this department they were left behind by the Schneiders that came from Germany. But even with these they are still in the rear, and it would be impossible, in Paris, to get a coloured coat made any thing like those turned out by the London tai- lors. In the minor workmanship this may be accounted for, as a very large portion of the opera- tive tailors of Paris are women. It requires both dexterity of finger, and power of thimble^ to make button holes and fix in wadding, and it is in these points the Paris tailors fail. The greatest part of the men one meets, have a slovenly half military air PARIS. 165 about tliem. There are a few extravagantly fine dressed dandies, tliat they call incroyables ; but these are like their caricatures, a burlesque on what they pretend to represent. Up to the present day you will scarcely find a man dressed, as we express it, like a gentleman. At this period, 1815, I was amused for a whole evening by the ridiculous ap- pearance of a first rate Parisian dandy, although I have no doubt he thought his adaptation of an Eng- lish fashion would create a sensation. This hero came into the balcon at the opera, where I was sit- ting, the only place of that nature where people pay some attention to dress. He slipped down near me, and I had a full view of the turn out. He had on dove coloured pantaloons, made tight, with silk stockings, and very natty shoes; he wore a fine cambric shirt, with diamond pin, and his cravat must have been fastened by a professor of the art. He had on three waistcoats, of which the two under ones were of different coloured silk, and above these his coat — will it be believed, what coat ? Why, an English white Whitney great coat, with a red ri- band in one of the button holes ! I really, at first, thought it was by way of joke, or to win a bet; but 166 PARIS. no, it was in all seriousness, and the youth seemed much flattered by the notice taken of him, which was not little, at least among the English part of the audience. I may be accused in speaking of fashions, for not having given the first place to the ladies, but in this case I shall do like the little boys, keep the sweetest morsel to the last. It would require more abilities than I can ever boast of, and a patience of observa- tion almost beyond the power of man, to give any thing like a history of that always beginning, never ending change of female fashions. I shall, there- fore, only at present attempt to describe what I saw during this memorable year. The fashion at that time among the ladies, was to wear very short waists, or rather, no waists at all. It was said that if ever they committed such an atrocity as to nurse their own children, they might have done it through a pocket hole. To the bottom of the gown they had appended several flounces, and the upper story was topped by an enormous ruff. But the bonnet then worn was the wonder of the time. I really do not know what to compare it to, except a child's go-cart with a chimney to it; certainly such a PARIS. 167 preposterous machine never existed before, and its dimensions were much enhanced by the contrast with the little cottage bonnets of the English women in Paris, which were made the subject of a burlesque farce, at the Varietes, as 1 have already- mentioned. I was sorry to see that it had the effect of driving our countrywomen out of their own becoming and convenient head-dress, and made them bury themselves in these Babylonian towers of silk and gauze. Cotton stockings with open clocks are thought more genteel in Paris than silk, and all the French women are very particular about their chaussure. May I be so bold as to express my impression at that time with respect to French female fashions, and I have seen nothing to alter it much since ? — that it resembles French cookery, both being disguises to cover indifferent meat. In the dress I have endeavoured to describe, it was impossible to guess what sort of woman was within it, whether she was shaped like a tar barrel, or an hour glass ; whether she had any bosom, or was free from that incumbrance. With respect to her face, all you could see were a pair of eyes peeping at you from the bottom of a cave, but of the rest of the 168 PARIS. features, or the complexion, there was no possible means of judging. French women have, in general, bad figures. A foreigner expressing his surprise at the great num- ber of nurses in Paris, and that he had never known any ladies nurse their own children, a Frenchman present said, " Scavez vous pourquoi les femmes en France ne nourrissent pas leurs enfans ? C 9 est parcequ 9 elles n 9 out point de t s." This is true almost to the letter, as nothing is so rare as to see a French woman with a fine bust. In the general contour of their persons they are also deficient. Even among those who exhibit their persons on the stage, there will be generally found something wanting to complete. I may instance Taglioni ; with her there is nothing wanting but fullness of the upper part of the arm, a point of great beauty in every well made female. The legs are, however, in general very good. This I have heard attri- buted to the badness of the pave in Paris, which obliging the dear creatures to walk always tiptoe, strengthens the muscles of the calves of the legs, and makes the ankles fine and well formed. This most people who have walked the streets in the PARIS. 169 French metropolis can vouch for, as the ladies are not at all chary about showing their legs. I walked once through a very dirty street; there was a well dressed female in front of me. Her drapery was tucked up not far from the order of the garter, and although the street was nearly floating in mud, there was not one speck on either of the white stockings that were delighting my vision. They have since constructed trottoirs (footways), along the sides of the principal streets, which will allow people to walk on the soles of their feet. I hope they will not deteriorate the ladies legs. The frame work, or, as the French have it, la char- pente, of the female head, is harsh and angular in out- line, and the fleshy integuments do not well cover the projecting portions. The complexion of the skin is also very indifferent, and the hair, which is coarser than that of the English or German women, never varies, like them, in shade, being generally of a dull black. Such being, on an average, the general state of female charms, it cannot be wondered at that dress should become reduced to a science, or that it should be the most expensive luxury indulged in by our neighbours. They possess in Paris the 170 PARIS. best mantua and stay makers in the world, and this is, I think, the fairest excuse that can be given for our countrywomen following the French fashions. It has been given as a proof of the good taste of the Parisian ladies, that they avoid glaring colours, (couleurs prononces). It is not taste, however, en- tirely ; it is a matter of life or death with them, to keep clear of such contrasts. You would put a French woman au desespoir, to ask her to put on a pink or white cottage bonnet, such as are worn by some of our ruddy cheeked damsels. If she was forced to go into the street in such a costume, she would never survive it. Their business, on the contrary, is to look for subdued colours, and the manufacturers and modistes rack their brains to dis- cover shades, to which they give fantastical names, and which have not the slightest reference to the prismatic colours. Where defects arise in any organ of the human structure, nature generally compensates for it by increasing the power of some other sense; for example, those who are short-sighted generally hear very well, and vice versa. In England, when a young female is told (what she knows already), PARIS. 171 that she is very pretty, she immediately thinks that nothing more can be possibly required, and all the powers of her mind are allowed to remain in abey- ance. I appeal to the experience of those who have studied the sex, and ask if they have not met with many instances, where their eyes have been delighted at a distance with some beautiful object, which their heated imagination raises to the rank of a deity, but which, when brought to the proof, turns out to be a silly girl ? The most beautiful Englishwoman I ever saw, a Northumberland belle, had, in common parlance, " not a word to throw at a dog." The French women aware of their small claims to beauty, cover their persons with all that art can produce in the way of dress, and make up for something of plain features by the expression they give their eyes, which certainly speak " unut- terable things. 5 ' But it is by cultivation of their minds that the French women best succeed in con- cealing their defects; not merely by the shewy accomplishments of music, dancing, and languages, but by bringing useful reading into practice in conversation, and by attention to grace, and ease of manner. "With no other woman can a person fall 172 TARIS. at once into the unrestrained intercourse of society so soon, and they] generally contrive to keep up the interest thus acquired in after acquaintance. The most splendid example of what I have above stated, of this, or perhaps any other age, I may give by simply naming Madame de Stael. Although by extraction a Swiss, she had all the feelings and habitudes of a French woman, and might represent in modern times, with great superiority, the Sevig- nes, the Deffands, and the L'Espinasses of days past. With small claims to personal beauty, she placed all the society with which she was connected in subjection, and Buonaparte himself became jealous of her sway ; he, therefore, banished her from what was most dear to her — Parisian society, or rather from an attentive and delighted auditory, who only interrupted her intellectual displays, by some trifling questions, or slender doubts, sufficient to produce greater zest by her elaborate answers, or explana- tions. The ostensible reasons of the late Emperor for the banishment of this philosopher in petticoats, were sufficiently ridiculous ; he said she had written a work on Germany, and had never once mentioned the grand army ! ! In honour of the French fair PARIS. 173 sex, I may quote another name, that of Madame Recamier ; who, to powers of mind little inferior to her intimate friend just mentioned, joined a finished figure, and beauty of countenance seldom exceeded, the splendid index of a cultivated understanding, and of a noble and generous dispo- sition. Few people now alive will forget the sensation created by the presence of this lady in England during the peace of Amiens. She had also the bad or good fortune of falling under the displeasure of the mighty Emperor. The fashions naturally lead to speak of shops. What are properly so called, fall infinitely short in splendour and appearance, to those of London ; but there are some warehouses (magazins) principally up stairs, and without external marks, that contain assortments of goods, chiefly connected with ladies' dress, equal to anything of the kind in our metro- polis. The shops in the Palais Royal strike for a moment, as being brilliant in bijouterie^ &c, but when one looks close, the make and fashion of these trinkets are in bad taste, and poorly executed, while the whole riches of the shop are stuck in the win- dows. The row of silversmiths' shops on the quay 174 PARIS. in the city, although exhibiting more substantial display, are far below the most inferior of the Strand, in London. It is the custom of most of the shops in the streets of Paris, to have emblematical signs, and it is here the names of the saints, (chiefly female) are invoked, — a la St. Marguerite, a la St. Cecilia, 8fc* One house on the Boulevard, that runs through to la Rue Richelieu, is dedicated to a young lady called la petite Jeannette. Who she may have been I cannot pretend to say, but the magazin under her auspices seems as well achalande as that of Swan and Edgar, and if the proprietors have not made their fortunes it must be their own fault. I went about this time on the forlorn hope of ac- companying some ladies on a shopping expedition. One of their visits was to a stocking shop in la Rue de Petits Peres, probably within the bounds of the ancient convent of Augustins. The nearest thing in English to the name of this street, would be Minor Canon street. A French gentleman who was of our party, and who was busy learning Eng- lish, was asked by one of the ladies who had taken the number of the shop, what the name of the street was, to which he replied by giving its French title, PARIS. 175 and translating it " street of small fatfers," a long way from being so near the mark, as the English- man who translated Pre aux Clercs, by Parson's Green. At the first entrance of the armies in Paris, and very shortly after the contribution levied through the Prefect of the Seine, by Blucher, a requisition was made by the same vieille moustache, to have some pictures and a statue, that had been taken from Prussia, restored. Some of the pictures had orna- mented the apartments of the Queen of Prussia, and were then in the palace of St. Cloud ; the bronze statue was in the gallery of the Museum. Denon, the director, demurred to this proposal ; he was, consequently, arrested by some Prussian soldiers, and was civilly told, like the Prefect, if he did not comply, he should be marched off to the castle of Graudentz. With such arguments there could be no debate. The pictures, among which were two of Corregio, and the statue, were packed up, as well as some others claimed by the King, as belong- ing to Aix la Chapelle and Cologne, and sent off, with two or three of the models I have already alluded to, taken from the Hotel des Invalides. 176 PARIS. The French hoped that this was the last attack on their riches. It may be easily conceived their sur- prise and chagrin, when a fresh claim started up towards the latter end of August from the new King of the Belgians, for the pictures that were taken from the churches in that country, and this claim was supported by our minister in Paris. This gave rise to a long diplomatic discussion. A slight oppo- sition was given by the Emperor Alexander, out of kindness to the feelings of Louis the 18th, who was certainly placed in the most awkward predicament* The objections of the Emperor were finally over- ruled, and the Belgian pictures were removed. The ice once broken, a general restitution seemed resolved on, and Canova, the celebrated sculptor, arriving from Rome, hastened the measure to a con- clusion, as he claimed the protection of the British government. The attack now became general. The guardianship of the galleries was virtually taken from the French, and a guard of British troops sta- tioned there, who prevented the French, with few exceptions, from entering— possibly in the fear that they might take their revenge by mutilating the pictures. These were easily removed and packed PARIS. 177 up, but it was a different affair with respect to the statues. It was said that the French did not require any orders from the Government to avoid giving assistance, as not one of them would lend a hand. I went frequently in during the process of packing, and saw several men there at work, who bore all the appearance of Parisian workmen, but the guardians of the Museum positively asserted that these were not Frenchmen, but foreigners settled in Paris. As there is no trade or occupation that cannot be found in the ranks of the British army, men enough would have been found for the purpose, and several were employed in the Belgian portion of packing-. Being in coloured clothes, I insinuated myself among the groups of Frenchmen that occupied the space in front of the Louvre, and its approaches, and was much edified at the expressions of mingled rage, shame, and grief; if we had partitioned France among the allies, and made all the inhabitants tri- butary serfs, there could have been scarcely greater consternation, despair, and anger, than was given vent to by every one, — the lowest order of people seeming rather to suffer the most. Every one has heard the story of the girl who N 178 PARIS. fell in love with the Apollo ; the grief and sorrow of both men and women for its departure were of the deepest character, and nearly equalled that of the pas- sion of the young lady. Some of the artists who were allowed to be present when this inimitable statue was put into its case, shed tears, and kissed the hand of marble. All the feelings I have attempted to describe as being called into action, reached their climax when the train of carriages with the pack- ages moved off, under an escort of our 52nd light infantry. I shall never forget the aspect of the surrounding French, or the suppressed curses that were on their lips; sacre tonnerre, and many other sacres not quite so respectable, came from their mouths, and some of their shoulders I hardly expected would return to their places again. The pictures, as I have said, were more manageable, and some of them were taken out of the frames and rolled up, but the celebrated one of the Transfigu- ration being painted on wood, could not be so easily stowed away. The workmen, in lowering it down, let it slip out of their hands, and it fell on the floor. The fall caused the dust out of innumerable worm holes in the back of the picture to fly out, and for TARIS. 179 a moment to hide the picture itself. A cry of horror broke from the spectators, imagining' that it was smashed to pieces; fortunately, they were deceived. The whole business took up several days, and many were the vacancies along the walls; when the Austrian government also put forth its claim, and demanded, not only what had been taken from the Austrian states, but of that part of Italy over which it was now to rule. Then came the Spanish demand for pictures of Murillo and Velasquez, so that when all these calls had been satisfied, the gallery exhibited the most woeful and disastrous appearance. Had it not been for the Borghese collection, which Napoleon had forced the Prince to sell to him at a price little more than half its value, the galleries of sculpture would have looked nearly as desolate as the picture gallery, in which scarcely anything remained but the French and Flemish pictures, and a few of the Italian, legiti- mately acquired, as the French said, but it was but a bastard sort of legitimacy. It was managed thus. The French generals did not like to seize directly the pictures in private collections at Rome, but they managed to get many into their possession. n 2 180 PARIS. They levied a heavy contribution, which the impoverished nobles were totally unable to pay without selling their pictures ; they found a French commissioner ready to make purchases from them to any amount, but infinitely below the real value. On this subject I was furnished with an anecdote which I shall take leave to relate, having it from the person himself, at Rome. He was, I believe, by birth an Irishman, and a painter himself by profes- sion. He was acting at Rome, as Consul, nominally of Hanover, but actually of England. He was per- fectly acquainted with every painting of value in the Eternal City, and when this order for a forced contribution was given by the French general, he guessed the purport of it, and being aware that two pictures, belonging to one of the collections of great value, would most likely be sold, he resolved to forestall the French commissary by purchasing them himself. He succeeded in his wish, had the pictures taken out of their frames, rolled up and conveyed away in the night. He had their place of concealment changed several times, and at last succeeded in getting them on board an American ship at Civita Vecchia, that was bound to England. PARIS. 181 He heard nothing of them for many months, and was apprehensive they had been lost, when a friend of his, by dint of research and inquiry, discovered that they were lying. in the Custom-house, at Hull. The American had either no determined destina- tion in England, or had overshot his port ; but at Hull he landed the pictures. They had remained there unclaimed, over the time allowed by some warehouse regulations, were put up for sale, and bought in again by one of the Custom-house officers for £200. When they were discovered, the duty paid, and Mr. Fagan's friend got them to London, they fetched nearly £3000. I may also here remark, that at the period I allude to, after the peace of Amiens, I saw in the halls of the Vatican, numberless objects marked by the French com- missaries for removal, that was prevented by the con- stant presence of our cruisers on the coast of Italy. Going in one day from the camp to Paris, I was much surprised to observe two videttes of Austrian heavy cavalry, in their brown cuirasses, stationed where the avenue of the Champs Elysees joins the Place de Concorde. Two more were at the foot of the bridge of the same name, and all the roads lead- 182 PARIS. ing to the Thuilleries were occupied in like manner. I was rather puzzled to find out why Louis le desire was thus apparently blockaded, and learned, that the Austrians were then taking down the Corinthian horses that had been prancing on the arch of the Carousel, and that access to that point w r as barred to the French, and the French only. I had heard that an attempt had been made in the night to re- move the horses without success, and, indeed, the Austrians were forced to have recourse to an Eng- lish engineer and workmen, before they could effect their purpose in daylight. I rode directly to the Carousel, but the horses had already made their descent, and had been removed. There was nothing remaining on the arch but a kind of scaffolding with a temporary crane, and the empty car, which, after the wood work was removed, looked as if it had dropped out of the clouds. The triumphal arch, at that time, bearing this solitary empty vehicle, would have made a good emblematical entrance to a rail- road. I saw afterwards these Corinthian- Venetian animals in a waggoner's yard, in the Chaussee d* Antin. The brazen brutes were lying on their sides in straw, each occupying a waggon, looking as if PARIS. 183 they were on tlieir way to the kennel, or the knacker. There were Austrian sentries and a guard in the yard, and the passing Frenchmen were shrugging their shoulders out of joint. The Austrians tried to remove the Venetian winged lion that was placed on a fountain of les Invalides, but in doing so they broke its leg, and made some other fractures. All these affairs served to inflict the greatest wound the morgue of the Parisians had ever received, and the effects will scarce ever be effaced from their memories, When retribution is the order of the day, it is hard to say where it should stop ; but, ap- parently, both the Prussians and Austrians exceeded the just bounds of retaliation. It was, certainly, a stretch of authority in the former, to claim works of art taken from Cologne and Aix la Chapelle, as the Prussians had not yet taken full possession of the ceded territory on the left bank of the Rhine. The claims of Austria, on the behalf of Venice, for the paintings of Titian and other works of art, were still more equivocal. Previous to the invasion of the republicans, Venice was an independent state, in no way connected with Austria. The Doge and Senate were no longer in existence to make their 184? PARIS. claim, and the Austrians, in taking possession of the Venetian territory by the treaty of peace, might as well have asked for the Isle of Rhodes and the Ionian Islands, as to claim what was taken from the Venetians by the French armies of Italy. With respect to the horses, perhaps the Turk had the best claim on them, as they were manufactured in his territory, and taken away from thence in the first instance. To fill up the immense chasms in the picture gal- lery, several contributions were made from private collections and from the King's palaces. Rubens's Kfe and adventures of Marie de Medicis, with her bouncing maids of honour, and buttered cupids in the skies, were brought from the Luxembourg. They were well calculated for the purpose, as they covered so much space. These paintings show in perfection Rubens's power of colouring, but the subject is by no means interesting. Forced alle- gory in painting, as well as poetry, becomes soon fatiguing. I saw the gallery in its palmy state, and have frequently visited it since, without altering the first impression, which produced on my own mind the conviction that it is the worst place of the kind PARIS. 185 in Europe for the exhibition of pictures. The ex- treme length of the gallery in proportion to its breadth, destroys every idea of architectural beauty, and the prospect of wading through such an avenue of paintings, and spelling them out of a catalogue, might damp the ardour of the boldest amateur. This anticipation of fatigue is exceeded by the reality, as, in addition to merely walking through the gallery, a person is obliged to manoeuvre round every picture to find out the proper light. To me it appears, that the only way to remedy these defects would be, to break the gallery into compartments, each containing a school of painting ; to shut up the side windows, and light it from the top. The galleries on the ground floor of the palace of the Louvre are perfectly well adapted for the purpose for which they were intended, and the different sta- tues were placed to the greatest advantage. It was a matter of discussion and dispute at the time, as to the effects of the "great moral les- son." Many persons thought it would have been an advantage to have allowed the collection to remain untouched ; and I have no doubt the French perfectly agreed with this opinion. It was argued 186 PARIS. that the advantages to students, both from Germany and England, would be very great; the small dis- tance, and little expense that would be required for all young artists; and even those persons who could not afford to make long journeys, or had not time to spare, could have an opportunity, in the course of a few days, of observing some of the most precious works of painting and sculpture, from which at present they are debarred. Both these classes, however, would bear a small proportion to those of our countrymen and women, who like to take a greater range. The English are the greatest travel- lers in Europe. There is, of course, a great variety of persons who have this propensity that would puzzle Sterne to classify. To most of those the great interest of travelling would have been entirely destroyed by the collection remaining undisturbed at Paris; there would be nothing to interest. Madame de Stael says " Voyager quoiqu' on en puisse dire est un triste plaisir ;" and so it would be, if nothing was to be seen but highways, hills, val- lies, rivers, bridges, and houses ; but the expecta- tion of seeing some object of general curiosity in each place the traveller goes to, serves to keep up PARIS. 187 an interest. Now that would be disappointed if, on enquiring for such a monument, painting, or altar piece, to be told that it was once there, but had been removed to Paris. I recollect well, when visiting the galleries of the Vatican, during the peace of Amiens, and seeing in the catalogue the Apollo Belvidere, at the same time not recollecting anything of its removal to France, I looked directly for the number on the pedestal; but in place of finding the Pythian divinity where I expected, there was nothing but his effigy in plaster of Paris on the perch. To do the French justice, they gave his godship a more honorable and prominent posi- tion than what he possessed at Rome. But, perhaps, the Venus may appear to most ad- vantage in the Gallery at Florence. Although much inferior to St. Peter's at Rome, as a place for flirtation, the Gallery had its advantages sous ce rapport* Parties going there, soon got broken up, by having different objects of admiration, and often run into couples. No better opportunity could pos- sibly offer for letting off soft nonsense, than the contemplation of a picture. A young lady might be led away to a distance, to see a beautiful Madon- 188 TARIS. na of Raphael, and, when tired of standing too long, there were benches at intervals. There all the ideas imbibed by the contemplation of perfection might be digested at leisure, with the advantage to the admirer, of giving credit to the lady herself for all the charms they had both admired. Although the Gallery was generally pretty full of people, the happy pair remained in comparative solitude, all eyes being divided between the canvas and the catalogue. And then Pa, and Ma, and aunt Mar- tha would be under no uneasiness; they commanded the principal pass, and the Gallery was no tho- roughfare. It was also a capital place of finding a stray Englishman ; if he was not at his hotel, or on the Boulevard Italien, he would be found, in all proba- bility, yawning, gaping, or sleeping in the Gallery. There I saw Sir Walter Scott; an interval of twenty years having elapsed from the time I had first seen him in Edinburgh, before he had published anything. The recollection of his person was so strong that I recognised him instantly. The times w T ere too busy then for him to gain all the honours of a Hon, which might have been expected ; but his PARIS. 189 works (except the Life of Napoleon) were held in very great estimation in Paris. Several transla- tions of them had been made, which, considering the great number of Scottish provincialisms, were, in general, well executed. In one of these, how- ever, the translator was quite thrown out, in the ballad of Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, quoted in some of Scott's works. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray They were two bonny lasses, They bigg'd themsels a bonny wee house, And stickit it o'er wie rashes. Which the Frenchman translated — "Bessy Bell et Mary Gray etaient deuxjolies filles ; elles se battirent une petite chaumiere, et en chasserent les importuns" The rashes were a sad stumbling block, but he seemed to have come to a conclusion that they were rash, troublesome lovers ; and that stickit meant something like thumping the intruders. Few things will more strongly prove the approxi- mation of the two nations, than the attention that has been paid of late years to the literature of Eng- land, and the number of people who now speak our language. Almost all our modern works of note are immediately translated into French, and a 190 PARIS. greater number still reprinted in Paris by the literary pirate of Rue Vivienne. I have seen trans- lations of Byron very well executed, as well as those of Scott; but the greatest difficulty our neighbours seem to labour under, is the transcrip- tion of proper names. In the reports of our parlia- mentary debates, as given by the best journals in Paris, there are numberless mistakes of proper names, which it would seem to require some ingenuity to make. A vast number of new lords are thus created, and many commoners mangled. Even in things printed in Paris, and where the means of correction were at hand, I have been surprised to see the blunders. In the latter end of 1827, an English company of players, under the direction of Abbott, was established in Paris ; a Miss Smithson, little heard of in England, made a great figure there in some of Shakspeare's plays, which the French were beginning to understand and enjoy. Amongst others of the performances, was the School for Scandal, which was perfectly familiar to the Parisians, through one or more translations. I saw the play bill of that day, and amongst the other characters mangled or mis-spelt, PARIS. 191 were the names of Sir Octor Teazle, and Sir Diver Surface. I also saw in the Moniteur of the 1st February, 1828, a notice that the English company would, on that evening, perform Thedan after Hed- ding,. which meant to express, The Day after the Wedding. Now, as we do not make these mistakes in transcribing French words, I am rather puzzled to find out how the compositors and correctors can overlook such blunders. It is still more surprising, when we find German, Polish, and even Russian names, with their cacophanous combination of con- sonants given correctly. CHAP. VII. THE FAIR OF ST. CLOUD DUCHESSE D* ANGOULEME- — FRENCH DANCES VIVE HENRI QUATRE MARLY LAST REVIEW PARTY FEELINGS FIRST OPENING OF THE CHAMBERS BY THE KING BREAKING UP OF THE CAMP CHEVROUSE A SOLO IN A CABRIOLET LAPIE VOLEUSE A MAN CROSSED (NOT IN LOVE) BUT RABBIT SHOOTING HOW THE PRUS- SIANS EAT — VIOTTI AFFAIR AT NISMES EXECUTION OF NEY MONTMORENCI ROUSSEAU HOW TO CUT A LEG OF MUTTON CALAIS SOLDIER'S WIVES. Vive Henri Quatre, Vive ce Hoi vaillant ; Ce diable a quatre, Qui a le triple talent De boire, de battre, Et d' etre un vert galant. Chanson Royaliste. Amour sacrt de la patrie Conduis, sontiens nos bras vengeurs Liberie, Liberie cheriee Combats avec tes defenseurs ; Sons nos drapeaux que la victoire Accourt a tes males accens Que tes ennimis expirans, Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire ! La JYJarseiiloise. The month of September began, not with par- tridge shooting, which may be effected at any time, PARIS. 193 but with what are called the fetes of St. Cloud — a fair being held in the gardens on the first three Sundays of September. The principal alley is occupied with all sorts of shews ; wild beasts, fire- eaters, giants, dwarfs, and a theatrical detachment from Franconi. In the side alleys are swings, riding in a ring, lejeu de bague> and in fact all the fooler- ies, noise and nonsense with which our St. Bartho- lomew is worshipped. There are pic-nic parties among the trees, tender couples pair off in the closer avenues, and the cascade, that is thirsty all the week, pours down a slender thread of water, pumped up for the occasion ; dinner parties, various, at the restarateurs' ; while the coffee room is filled with drinkers of various slops, and those who sip Roman punch. These are holidays for the cockney chil- dren of Paris, who swarm in all directions, loaded with bonbons, spiced gingerbread, and toys. The gardens are visited by most of the fashionable world, for a short time at least, and the scene altogether, with the river in front, is one of considerable gaiety. Blucher had given up the palace, and it was now inhabited by the Duchess of Angouleme. A series o 194 PARIS. of untoward and unhappy circumstances seemed to follow this unfortunate lady, who, in all probability, will end her career far from her native land. Buo- naparte said she was the only man in the family, and she has given abundant proofs both of courage and conduct, particularly in the course of events at Bourdeaux that succeeded the landing of the ex- Emperor in France. For her many high and valu- able qualities the French were ready to give her all credit, but by some means the parties never came into a state of sympathy with each other* The people imagined that she had never forgiven them the death of her father, and that was a point she could hardly be expected to come to a voluntary explanation on ; while her reserved and melancholy air rather added to the suspicion. With parties thus situated, the feelings could not be expected to be of a very kindly nature, and these might gather force on both sides by the events that led to the flight of Louis the 18th, The Duchess came down in her open carriage twice while I was present in the garden. The men took off their hats (which they do almost to every female, and in every situa- tion) but no other sign of loyalty or affection was TARIS. 195 shewn to the person who then might be presumed to be the future Queen of France. As the evening closed in, the small fry were sent home to Paris, under the charge of les bonnes, and the various elements of diners, ice eaters, grove ramblers, &c, resolved, or dissolved into groups of dancers under the trees, each party being armed with a fiddler, and there continued at their eternal quadrilles for the greater part of the night, as long at least as they could parade the candles. It has struck me often as curious that the French, who are lively people, and to whom dancing seems as natural as the air they breath, have no dances of their own in society that have any character of vivacity. The minuet is perfectly national, and the gavotte takes but little away from its solemnity. They copied badly the English country dance (contredanse) and then fell upon the quadrille. This is a convenient dance for small parties, but has no other recom- mendation ; the attitudes people are obliged to put themselves into are sufficiently ridiculous, and it is the same thing over and over, like the ass in the mill. The German waltz they have deprived of its grace, by dancing it too quick ; and the game of o2 196 PARIS. romps which they called the gallopades, they have got ashamed of. There were some videttes of the Queen's bays to overlook the carriages, and a couple of them dis- mounted as sentries at the gate, along with those of the national guard. This was all that appeared, ostensibly, of foreigners, and the garden was now restored to its proper owners. Whether it was owing to this, or the people having been kept so long in anxiety, I cannot pretend to say, but they appeared to enjoy this first holiday extremely ; it seemed a solace for all the evils they had lately experienced. I cannot say that they stood much in awe of revelling within the precincts of the palace. Their loyalty to the King and his dynasty might also appear somewhat ambiguous. The air of Vive Henri Quatre resounded every where. It was per- formed at least once a night in every theatre in Paris, ground to pieces on hand organs, and sung and fiddled in every quarter. There is a reed grows in the Seine, similar to what every school-boy knows. You cut away the external rind, and leave only a thin mem- brane within, which forms a sort of musical machine, The people used to get groups of children together PARIS. 197 in the garden, and drill them to play this air, and their attempts to succeed used to cause peals of laughter, as it was evidently a burlesque. It was curious that the court could get no composer or poet to give a modern royalist air, without having re- course to this ancien refrain. They must certainly have been hard run, not to find any other praise for the mirror of French kings, than that he was a good fighter, wencher, and drinker. The French clian- sonniers do not seem to patronize royalty, as I recol- lect of only one other air, taken from the opera, that has that tendency — " Oh Richard, oh mon roi;" while the republican repertory is full, without the assistance of Beranger. The royalists should look to this; a song goes farther in France than any where else, and is longer remembered. Take Mal- brook for instance, that has made the circuit of the world, and will never be forgotten. I went once, from curiosity, to see the site of the ancisnt palace of Marly, the scene of many unwar- like exploits of Louis the 15th. There are now scarcely any traces of the building left, and only some remains of the garden. The village adjoining is a poor place. The water works were once a 198 PARIS. lion, but a sheepish lion they must have been. There remain two of the large wheels that throw the water into a reservoir, from whence it is forced up by a steam engine to the top of the hill, and is carried from thence to Versailles, by the aqueduct, where it is exhibited as the wonder of wonders, on the first Sunday of each month, spouting up through lead pipes. It was sufficiently ingenious to build a palace and a town in a sandy desert, and then find out there was no water. I do not envy the Versaillois their beverage they have, after being infused with all the varieties of dirt of Paris. Our reinforcements from America had continued to join in numbers that not only covered our casualties, but left a considerable surplus on the credit side. As it was not thought necessary to make a fresh distribution of the divisions, most of the regiments that came up w r ere placed in the 12th British brigade, which became as strong as a division. Our last review took place in the plain of St. Denis ; it was almost entirely of infantry, British and Hanoverian. As Voltaire says, "gens habilles en rouge" we might number above 63,000, and had the cavalry joined from Normandy, and the PARIS. 199 artillery taken the field, we might have exhibited a British army of near 80,000 effective men, such a force as never was assembled before, and probably never will again, under our standards. It had rained the whole night before, being the first since we entered France; it had laid the dust, and was of great advantage to the spectators. The movements were the same as on the last occasion, but our Bow bell friends had learned a lesson, and kept out of the way. Half the crowned heads of Europe, and nearly all the ministers of state were present on this occasion. Our men seemed to enjoy the display they were making, and all the movements were performed with great rapidity and precision. In return, they got a full view of all the big wigs as we marched past in column of quarter distance. The weather was clear and fine, and the dust had been effectually laid by the rain of the night before, which also brought out fresh leaves on the trees in the Palais Royal, that had been previously as bare as in winter. Affairs in Paris had begun to have a more tran- quil and settled appearance, while the government gradually gained power by the mixed exercise of authority and concession. It was remarked, that 200 PARIS. an immediate rise of the funds took place first after the execution of Labedoyere, and later of Ney ; and the character of Louis the 18th, began visibly to gain ground, although he was for a time placed in the most awkward circumstances possible as a trial of his popularity ; I mean the removal of the works of art, which must have been to him, in every sense, the most painful thing imaginable. This national humiliation and grief appeared to have been par- tially softened by the dismissal of Fouche from the ministry ; he seemed to have been held in equal detestation by men of all parties in Paris. The King, left to the impulses of his own right feeling, endeavoured to steer a middle course, and not allow himself to be urged to extreme measures. He gave up Labedoyere and Ney to the law, unmixed with any personal vengeance, although there could be no possible excuse for the conduct of those two men towards him personally. They both betrayed him ; Labedoyere's treason was cool and calculated, but Ney appeared to have been led away by the impulse of a moment. These were the only great examples, although, if the suggestions of some of the u/lra-royalists had been listened to, the list of PARIS. 201 proscriptions would have been full and ample- Soon after our arrival in Paris, I met a royalist whom I had known in England. Although certain that he was satisfied with the actual state of affairs, I thought that he might feel rather sore in a national point of view, and I slurred the affair of the campaign over, by saying it was fortunately soon brought to a close. " Not at all," said he, " I am only sorry that it did not last longer, and that you had not an opportunity to kill 100,000 more of those blackguards/"' The same sentiments were common to many, and great disappointment existed, that Louis had not exterminated as many Buonapart- ists as he could lay his hand on. I dined once, by invitation, with General M 1 ; the other guests were quite of the ultra school. We had a splendid dinner at a restaurateur's, and it struck me, that talking loyalty must be very conducive to digestion, as we continued eating, drinking and speechifying from seven in the even- ing till twelve, with unabated vigour on the part of most of the convives, indeed, the royalists seemed to have the ball at their feet, and externally through Paris, there was no appearance of difference of 202 PARIS. opinion, except, as I before stated, occasionally at the theatres, where the opposite party seized on any political allusions that suited their own purpose, and applauded them to the skies, I was on the Pont de la Concorde the day Louis the 1 8th went to open the Chambers. Various opinions were passing on the splendour of the cortege that had left the Thuilleries, and was moving slowly along the quay, when a man near me exclaimed, " Ah, that is all very fine, if it was for the Emperor." These words occasioned a most violent commotion amongst a group standing by. One man's face turned greenish white, in his extreme rage ; many hands were laid on the ex- claimer, who ran a fair chance of being torn in pieces, or thrown over into the river, when he was rescued by the gendarmerie and conveyed to pri- son. The press also at this time was very silent on political topics, so that it was nearly impossible to form any idea of the actual state of parties in Paris during the period of its occupation. The month of October drawing to a close, the weather began to smell a little autumnal, and it was nearly time to give up our airy canvas lodgings in PARIS. 203 the Bois de Boulogne. The order came, in effect, to break up on the last day of the month. The troops marched for their different cantonments in the vicinity of Paris, the Prussians having vacated all their quarters on the left bank of the Seine, and moved to a greater distance. The station of the regiment I was in was at Chevreuse, a village lying between Versailles and Rambouillet; rather plea- santly situated in a valley, and partly surrounded with woods. Indeed, the place looked so retired and quiet, that it might be supposed to have been a hundred miles away from a noisy capital, in place of thirteen or fourteen. The whole population con- sisted of skinners, fell-mongers, tanners, and pre- parers of kid skins for gloves. The people were very quiet, civil, and inoffensive, and did every thing in their power for our accommodation. Our march had been in the wet, and asl was obliged to return to Bou- logne in the evening, I thought it would be prefer- able to riding in the rain, to take a cabriolet that had brought down a load of live stock from the camp, and was returning empty. Every one knows these machines, which, at that time, performed all the out post duty of Paris, but have since been super- 2C4 PARIS. seded by triple-bodied diligences, desirees, velociferes, and other three- syllable vehicles. There are a few of the cabriolets still left, and to those who have never seen such a thing, a few words will suffice to explain. It is a machine drawn by one horse, the shafts of which are prolonged at the sides, and fas- tened at the back by a cross bar ; a similar bar exists in front, on which the driver rests his feet. In the midst of this frame is suspended, on leather straps, the tool of a body, very clumsy and top heavy. It has three seats inside, and when properly loaded, contains six persons, with the driver in front, and on the bar with him, occasionally, un lapin. When this commodity of passengers is safely stowed away, their weight serves to keep in subjection the saltatory propensities of the leather straps, and the motion is not disagreeable ; but when there is only one un- fortunate occupant, c' est bien une autre chose, as I found by experience. After I got fairly on the pave, I understood fully how expressive the French word cahot is, as I began to pronounce the two syl- lables instinctively. I had in my own person an excellent lesson in projectiles; — at one time 1 was sent point blank on the driver's back ; then at an PARIS. 205 angle of forty -five out of the window, and perpen- dicularly, like a rocket, against the roof. I had exercised on me both the centripetal and centrifugal force, and enjoyed every sort of motion except what the doctors call peristaltic. Had the evening not been setting in, I should certainly have got out and walked, but had to make the best of my bargain. I planted my back against one side, and with my feet on the seat, pressed the opposite, with indiffer- ent success as to steadiness, and when I got out at Boulogne, was more fatigued than if I had been riding a restive horse. The road from Paris to Chevreuse goes out by the barriere de V enfer, keeps the road to Orleans for a little way, and then turns to the right. It is, of all the approaches to the capital, the most dull and melancholy looking. On the road to our vil- legiatura stands the village of Palaiseau, celebrated in France as the theatre where was acted the story of the Maid and the Magpie, which had a more tra- gical termination in the village than in the opera, the maid being hanged, in place of being married. I have read, somewhere, a claim put in to the loca- lity, (I think by Lady Morgan) that states the scene 206 PARIS. of the theft of the silver spoon to have been in a village in Italy, near Bologna. I shall not attempt to decide in such a delicate controversy, but leave it to all future maids and magpies, whom it princi- pally concerns. After leaving the bare and naked plateau, and descending into the valley of Chev- reuse, the country assumes a more pleasing aspect ; the bottom of the vale is well cultivated, and the hilly sides are mostly wooded to the top. These woods, I understand, extend from the precincts of Versailles, with small intervals, as far as Rambouil- let* The village gave a title to one of the oldest of the ancient noblesse, the Duke de Chevreuse, but, I believe, the title is the only thing left, the pro- perty being confiscated as national domains. It is curious that the only estate almost that escaped the general confiscation was that of the present King of the French ; Neuilly, and the Palais Royal, having been made a dotation to the legion of honour, remained intact, until claimed by their original owner. The woods in the neighbourhood looking very rabbitish) one of our youths set forth to shoot conies. He was armed, besides his gun, with a license to TARIS. 207 shoot, and went out with the conviction "that all was right." After walking some distance, he suc- ceeded in flooring a rabbit, and just as he was about to re-load, he found at his side a mounted gens-d'- arme,, who let him know, rather by signs than lan- guage, " that he was wanted," and must accompany him forthwith. This invitation might have been probably resisted, but an empty single barrel had not much chance against a sabre, and pair of pistols in reserve. The sportsman however remonstrated 3 and stated that he was a British officer ; but this did not seem to shake the determination of the man-at- arms. He then drew forth his shooting license. Perhaps the two combined had some effect, as the cavalier seemed to have altered that part of his plan that insisted on his prisoner marching before him on foot, but politely offered to take him up behind him, and for that purpose drew up beside the trunk of a tree. " Needs must when," — so up my friend got en croupe, and away they went at a canter to Versailles. Capt. was so much struck with the ridiculous figure he cut, that he had nearly fallen off the horse by the force of laugh- ing, much to the astonishment of his conductor, who 208 PARIS. seemed to think he was making a mockery of justice. They arrived, at length, at the Mairie of Versailles, where it happened that some English officers were at the same time, one of whom knew Capt. , and was much surprised to see him led in prisoner of peace. The gens-d'-arme gave up his charge with all due solemnity, having stated that he had found the delinquent in actual trespass on the royal domain. He finished the account of his caption, and concluded by saying, cet homme doit etrefou, il a vie par tout le chemin* The Mayor was soon sa- tisfied, and the sportsman was released, to find his way back again as best he might. This mode of riding double to a presentation to the mayor, after the fashion of a progress to an Irish wedding, occasioned some fun, and was not a bad joke for " country quarters." The encounter had, however, the effect of checking the sportsmanlike ardour of some of our heroes, who had promised themselves a winter of shooting. They found their sports very limited, as well as their amusements, as a society of curriers and leather dressers, however useful, was not very ornamental. This place had been the extreme right of the Prussian position, and PARIS. 209 their visit will not be forgotten, I dare say, among the dressers of hides. I dined one day at a sort of chateau, with the proprietor, and some officers who were his guests. He had been notary to the ex- Emperor, but did not appear violent as a partisan* though highly indignant at the conduct of his late guests. Once he burst out, " Sacre d — comme Us mangent ces Prussiens ! ! " By his account they awoke about six ; had some coffee and wine to assist the opening of their eyelids, They breakfasted substantially at eight, had dinner at one, a sort of luncheon in the evening, and supper at nine; but, in fact, he said, some of the party were always em- ployed in eating, drinking, and smoking, which were going on the entire day. Our host had a few casks of Madeira wine (considered a sort of cordial in Fiance). This, on the approach of the allies, he had built up separate from the rest of the cellar ; but they had either got information, or smelt the wine through a stone wall, as, on going afterwards to examine the place, a breach was found in the wall, and his Madeira had all gone to assist the digestion of these sacres Prussiens. In fact, these northern heroes had completely expressed all the 210 PARIS. juice of the grape from the village, and the shops of the grocers were at the lowest possible ebb, so that we had to draw all our stores in these depart- ments from Paris. We had pretty good supplies of butter, eggs, &c, but the meat of all kinds was rather shy. They had here the smallest sheep I ever met with ; less than the Welsh, or Isle of Port- land. I ordered my servant one day to get me a shoulder of mutton for dinner. When it came to table it looked like a caricature of the joint ; — a fellow, sharp set, would have demolished it nearly, and two people would have left it clear to the bones. I can only attribute this to the aridity of the hills in summer, and the total inattention the French have for the ameliorating the breed of animals. They never think of crossing them, and they breed in constantly, to the great deterioration of their live stock of all kinds. There is not, throughout France, a fine well bred animal of any description, such as we are accustomed to ; scarcely even a dog or cat. The month of November had begun with frost, which was succeeded by snow. Wood fires, aided by cakes of tan, had helped to subdue the cold, but not the dulness of country quarters. It need not PARIS. 211 be wondered at, that those who could, adjourned to Paris, although in itself not a very agreeable place at this particular season. Melting snow is not very- pleasant to look at ; but in Paris it is, I think, more disagreeable than elsewhere. There is scarcely any walking out in the slop and dirt, and even in car- riages it is very inconvenient. The slippery state of the pavement gives all the vehicles a broadside propensity to slide into the centre of the street, through which runs, or glides, the gutter ; and it requires all the dexterity of the coachmen to keep them from falling foul of each other. In such weather the principal resource is parading up and down the Palais Royal. I met there, one day, my French friend, of whom I have spoken so often. He asked me to go to the house of a female relation that evening, to hear a concert. I thought the word hear a superfluity, an invitation to a concert would be enough ; but found out the meaning when I arrived at the house. The lady occupied half an apartment, as a suite of rooms in a hotel are called, and her moiety was separated from the other by a short escalier derobe, that was closed by a thin door, or, rather, partition, The opposite portion of the p 2 212 TAR1S. etage was occupied by Viotti, the celebrated violinist, who gave, that evening, a soiree musicale to his pro- fessional friends; and the temporary orchestra was placed against the door or partition aforesaid. I found a pretty large party assembled in the apart- ment of Madame M — , where light refreshments were served out; but au premier coup d archet, we all adjourned to the passage and stairs. On the steps some of the ladies were seated, and chairs were placed in every spot that might be reached by the sounds of the orchestra, which were heard to as much effect, perhaps, as in the concert room itself. The performers were the elite of Paris, and Madame Catalini, then still in fine voice, was of the party. I might have heard Viotti in England at the Opera, without being aware of it; but he was sent out of this country on suspicion of having been connected with the revolutionary party ; — I think in the year 1796, or 7. I had been familiar with his music, and it w T as now a great pleasure to hear some of it performed by the composer himself. His invisibility might, perhaps, have added something to the charm. It could scarcely be supposed that in France, in the nineteenth century, religion should be raised up PARIS. 213 as a motive for hostility ; but such was the case at Nismes. Whether it was thought that Protestant- ism was connected with the return of Buonaparte, or, whether the unsettled state of the country gave a favourable opportunity of renewing an ancient religious feud, from whatever cause, the fact was sufficiently proved, that an inveterate degree of ha- tred existed between the Roman Catholics and Pro- testants, and that the latter were obliged to close, for a time, their places of worship. The interference of the Government, in the first instance, was of no avail. General de la Garde, who had been sent there, was shot through the body by some ruffian who remained undiscovered, and that portion of the south continued in a disturbed state for a consider- able time. It was not until Christmas day that the Protestants could open their churches again. The court martial that had to try Ney, declared its incompetency to the task ; and a decree was issued for the trial to take place before the Chamber of Peers. May not this have been a precedent for taking all the recent political trials out of the com- mon courts, and before juries^ and referring them to the Chamber of Peers ? — a measure that bears an 214 PARIS. arbitrary character, prompted, perhaps, in one or two cases, by the doubts of getting a verdict from a jury, who might, possibly, have an undue leaning towards the accused ; but still serves to shew that France is only in a transition state towards liberty. All manner of stories and gossip had gone about relative to the pending treaty of peace, which at last made its appearance on the 20th. Concurrent with its promulgation, were issued the orders for the distribution of the army, and the corps pointed out that were to form part of the army of occupation. Among these we regretted not to find ourselves, and, for the first time, felt a degree of regret on returning home, not at all usual. Part of the troops that were to remain were to be cantonned in the open towns, and the rest in garrisons; all the fron- tier fortresses, with the exception, I believe, of Lille, were to be occupied. The treaty of peace was a wind-up of all the calamities of the French, and the heaviest retalia- tion that could have been inflicted short of dismem- bering the country. However prepared they had been by anticipation, the reality came on them with a stunning blow. I met one of my French friends, PARIS, 215 a royalist, and who was of course well pleased with the restoration at almost any cost; when I asked him, however, his opinion of the treaty, his reply was " Celafait mal au cceur." I have previously alluded to the parsimony of the French personally ; it is no less nationally. We have recently seen that they thought a sum less than £5000 of our money was a sufficient reward to any one to fit out a vessel for the discovery of the crew of their miss- ing sloop of war, supposed to be lost on the coast of Greenland ; and later still we have seen a proposi- tion for a pension to the widow of a general officer, who had lost his life in the service, rejected; and to the widow of General Dausmenil, the man who had saved the castle of Vincennes and all its mater- iel to the state, after being summoned by Blucher, they accorded, after a long debate, a pension of £120 a year, and to that proposal (shame on French gallantry !) there were 68 black balls, — benefits of vote by ballot, soi dit en passant. To a people thus affected with pecuniary costiveness, it is easily ima- gined what must be the feeling of forking out seven hundred millions of francs, and to have to pay for the keep of 150,000 men for five years ; it was not 216 PARIS. only sufficient to give them the mal au cceur, but to turn their stomachs. Amongst all this irritation of the occupation of Paris, the removal of the pictures and statues, and finally this treaty of peace, it may appear strange that, with a people so susceptible as our neighbours, there should be no demonstration of angry public feeling ; not a single emeute, private quarrel, or dis- pute, except in one instance, when an English gentleman was stabbed with a sword cane, on the Boulevards, by some person unknown, but supposed to be one of the army of the Loire, who imagined the Englishman had trodden purposely on his toes. About the time of the breaking up of the canton- ments of the Eritisli army near the capital, the execution of Marshal Ney took place in one of the alleys of the Luxembourg, with small previous preparation, and few spectators; most of the curious in executions having gone to the plain of Grenelle 5 where it was expected to take place. The affair itself caused very little sensation, the proceedings having spun out over such a space of time. It seemed to give addition to the force and consistency TARIS. 217 of Government, and, as in the case of Labedoyere, it caused a rise in the funds. Much discussion took place both in this country and in France, with respect to the expediency and propriety of this execution, particularly as it was attempted to shelter the Marshal under the capitu- lation of Paris, which would have been nothing but a futile pretext. It was said, when great interest was made in England to procure a remission of the sentence of death on Fauntleroy for forgery, that if he was forgiven, all the previous executions for that crime were so many murders, and no one could be ever put to death again on that charge. In like manner it might be said, that if Marshal Ney had been pardoned, no faith could be put in future in the oath of a general, on the word of honour of a soldier. The best excuse that can be offered for Ney is that he was seduced by the general enthusi- asm in favor of Buonaparte, and his address to the army; but this will scarcely free him from the im- putation of premeditation, to which the absurd fan- farronade of bringing Napoleon in an iron cage, gives a good deal of colour. The order arrived for us to break up our canton- 218 PARIS* merits, and march on the route to Calais. The weather had changed from frost and snow to rain, which accompanied us on the first march to Ver- sailles. I had there a billet on the house of Baron P— — , and had arrived in the court yard with bag and baggage, when the master of the house made his appearance, in the greatest state of embarrass- ment and disorder; said it was impossible a billet could be given on him, as he had already an officer in the house. I shewed him the document, but he did not seem more satisfied. I then said I had no wish to intrude on his house, but I must have a lodging somewhere, and that if he liked I would accompany him to the municipalite, and try to get the billet changed. Away we marched, my com- panion sacre-ing all the way, and muttering all sorts of groans. On arriving, he explained his case in the most emphatic and passionate style imaginable; one might have thought by his gesticulation that all his property had been put under confiscation. But all remonstrances were vain ; the authorities were deaf to his arguments, and it was clear that he had no chance. No one sooner reconciles himself to inevitable misfortunes than a Frenchman ; no sooner PARIS. 219 was my future host certain that he had to make the best of his bargain, than his manner changed instantly, and he returned to his house "an altered man." Having introduced me to his wife, seated in the saloon, he went out for a few minutes, and appeared much in a bustle, as if giving orders. Presently he asked me to~accompany him, and led the way to the opposite side of the house. Here he introduced me into a comfortable boudoir sort of sitting room, with an alcove bed, and a wood fire burning on the dogs. With a sort of half sigh he said " Enfin, monsieur, je vous cede mon petit domaine" I would have declined this offer, saying a bed any where would satisfy me. No, he had no bed "any where;" I must take his quarters. I therefore took possession, although I felt a degree of remorse at my barbarous conduct for thus having forced the poor man to go and sleep with his wife. He gave me an excellent dinner, and the best wine I had ever tasted in France. We began to talk politics, the prospects of the new Government, and reference was made to many of the emigrants who had been in England ; we became quite friends in the course of the evening, and the next morning 220 PARIS. we had a capital breakfast with all the appendages, both French and English, Montmorenci was our next halting place, where the French go in summer to see a bit of green turf; legazonfleuri being more familiar to them in books, than in reality. Here they always become poetical, repeat Jean Jacques, and recall all his sighs and groans on the spot where they were put forth. Montmorenci would only possess half its romance separated from the name of Rousseau. The inn where I was billetted was, afterwards, the scene of a splendid French suicide, or, rather, a duet of death. A lover and his mistress (whose parents had refused their consent to her marriage,) resolved not to sur- vive their cruelty. They came here, ordered a dinner, and when it was finished, they finished them* selves with a brace of pistols, the triggers having attached to each of them a loop of riband, couleur de rose. If I recollect, afterwards, two men, tired of life, terminated their career in the same place, and in like manner, having each drank two bottles of champagne, which might, in their case, stand in lieu of the rose-coloured riband. Something may be taken out of this as a contrast of national manners. PARIS. 221 Whenever Mr. Bull feels his mind oppressed with politics, or parish business, he seeks to relieve it by letting all out after dinner. He has no objection either to make up a dinner on the laying the first stone of a bridge, signing a petition about slavery, or himself being appointed to the yeomanry cavalry ; but honest John has not the slightest idea of making a dinner a passport to death, it gives him, on the contrary, one of the strongest inducements he can have to continue to live ; and when he is inclined to make away with himself, he never hunts in couples. The next march brought us to Beaumont sur 1' Oise. Here I had a billet on a chateau^ about two miles from the town. Whatever the cross roads may be at present, they were execrable in France in 1815; often serving as means of communication between different points, and offering their services to any stray rivulet that wanted a bed. I was driving a carriage that I had with me, and picked my way with some difficulty amongst ruts and holes, when, at last, I came in view of the chateau, and at the same time the road declined going any further with me. There was nothing between me and my 222 paris. place of destination but a large field, newly ploughed, without any trace of road, neither was there any- thing of the kind to the right or left. On asking a man the way to the house, he answered, " Tout droit" (follow your nose), pointing across the field, which feat I accomplished with some little labour. The house was pretty much alike what all country houses (or chateaux) are in France. We were, however, hospitably received ; and on departing in the morning, they yoked an ox in front of my horses, to drag us through the ploughed field. At Beauvais I was quartered in the house of a respectable dealer in hosiery, where I saw more of what we call comfort and domestic arrangement than any where else. I was hospitably received, and well treated, and had a good deal of conversa- tion with mine host, who was an intelligent and clever person ; he was what they would call in Scotland a douce quiet man, and surrounded with a family of fine children. His house furnished a very agreeable picture. But the placidity of his coun- tenance was entirely removed when I chanced to mention the Prussians; his eyes lighted up, and he was quite warm on the subject. He said, u You paris. 223 see me here surrounded with my family, sufficiently at my ease, and with all the necessaries of life within my reach ; I have had the good fortune to escape the different conscriptions, and have no habits of a soldier about me ; yet," said he, " if the King was to declare war against Prussia, I would march with pleasure to-morrow." All this was said in a way and manner that convinced me the man was in earnest, and may give some idea how strong the feeling was against the Prussians. In the evening we went to the theatre, where, for the first time, I saw La pie Vokuse. The house is of moderate size, and decently fitted up. Here I first understood why the pit is called parterre ; it was strictly so at Beauvais, there were no seats in it, and the men all stood on the beaten earthen floor. The frost had set in sharp that evening, and I should have thought made it very cool for the heels of the pittites. Although not later than the 10th of December, the cold increased that and the follow- ing day to a severity I had never felt before, or since. One of the children of the regiment was frozen to death on the road to some small villages where we quartered, a little off the high road, and 224 paris. officers and men were obliged to wrap handker- chiefs over their faces to protect them from the biting frost, which, however, was of short duration ; the wind changed to the south west, and we had rain and heavy gales for the remainder of the march, and long after our arrival in England. At Araines I again quitted the high road, and went to look for my lodgings at a farm house, which had formerly been a sort of chateau. Here also, after wading through a wretched lane, I came in front of my future gite, with a fallow field between us, through which I had to plough my way. This may give a good idea of the insulated state of the families who live in the country, and the little intercourse they have with their neighbours. This method of barring the way to the house keeps off intruders, and gives the inmates little inducement to go abroad, seeing that every time they go from home they must make the road as they go along. We were very well treated at this house, when we got to it. This manner of marching would have delighted Captain Dalgetty ; plenty of provant, good beds, stabling and forage for horses, and nothing to pay. Our hosts were generally anxious paris. 225 to know if there were many more to come, and although we were the head of the column, we did not confess it, fearing to diminish our own com- forts. At Abbeville I was billetted in a gentleman's house, who apologised for his dinner hour having passed (two o'clock), but said he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing me in the evening to a petit souper a V Anglaise ; which turned out to be a roast leg of mutton (hot), with potatoes. It is interesting to see a Frenchman carve a leg of mutton ; he takes the shank in his left hand, and hews it into wedges, as if it was done with a bill-hook, and these lumps of mutton are handed round on the dish. Those acquainted with the post road to Paris, can imagine that Nampont did not furnish us with very brilliant quarters; but those at Montreuil were better. At Boulogne, we were billetted on private houses in the upper town. We next halted at Haut Buisson, and afterwards at Pont Brique, or Pol Brique, a small place, about two miles from Calais, there to wait for a day until the packets were ready to take us over. We then marched into Calais, where it seemed likely we should be S 226 paris. detained for some time by heavy gales of wind from south-west. Having obtained leave to cross how, and when I liked, I joined another officer in hiring one of the packets, for which we were to pay three hundred francs ; the master was to be at our disposal, and to start whenever we liked, or rather when he thought it prudent. We embarked our horses, &c. &c, and offered to take those of any of our friends who chose to pay part of the expense? some of them did so, and were very glad after- wards of having embraced the opportunity. In the afternoon of the second day our skipper made his appearance, and said that the wind had lulled suf- ficiently to make the experiment of crossing. He brought with him a French gentleman, who asked permission to cross with us, having very urgent business in England ; which, of course, was granted. We had every thing on board except our carpet bags, and it did not require much time for our shipment. On arriving on board, we were rather surprized to find the deck of oar vessel crowded ; the permission given for one, was construed libe- rally by the skipper to mean as many as he liked. paris. 227 and no doubt he added a good deal to the three hundred francs. It was, however, no time to discuss the matter, our horses, carriage and baggage were all safe stowed, and the berths in the cabin secured for us. We dropped out of Calais harbour with the tide, as it was nearly quite calm, and we did not reach Dover till four in the morning; we had not been there above an hour, when the gale sprung up again, and continued to blow for nearly a week, with scarce an intermission. This weather was very disastrous to the cavalry branch of the service, great numbers of horses having perished ; they stood on the ballast of these small vessels without any support, and in lurching they fell to leeward. Many were suffocated in this way, and several, struggling to free themselves, leaped up, and crushed their heads against the deck above them, while the vessels were put into great peril by the weight falling to leeward. At length, most of the army got across, and our own destination being for Hastings, we took our departure from Dover. On embarking for Ostend, we had only taken the number of women allowed by the regulations, 22 228 paris. but our ladies were not long in finding their way to Paris along with other reinforcements ; they accompaied us on the march, mounted, as usual, a top of the baggage, to the very great astonish- ment of the French. I was standing in the street of Abbeville, when this portion of our army made its appearance, and it drew forth half the popu- lation ; I heard one woman shout, " Voila, voila, les Anglaises ;" and another said, " Mais cest unique" I should not suppose that the French were much impressed with our female beauty, exhibited on a baggage waggon in a wet day, as they shrugged their shoulders in pity or contempt; but the sight had at least novelty, as no women appear with French troops on the march. CHAP. VIII. VOYAGE TO HAVRE A BRIDE IN QUARANTINE STEAM-BOaT ON THE SEINE THE BOURBONS AND STUARTS — RELIGION DUCHESSE DE BERRI THE NEW EXCHANGE FRENCH ROADS CANALS FOREST OF ST. GERMAIN GARDES DU CORPS EARTHQUAKE IN FLANDERS BREAKFAST AT CAU- DEBECK LA MARSEILLOISE PROCES VERBAL WASHER- MEN ST. CYR PIONEERS BAR OF THE SEINE AT QUILLE- BEUF AN ENGLISHMAN WITH FIFTEEN CHILDREN. Look you lisp, and wear strange suits, Disable all the benefits of your own country ; Be out of love with your nativity, and almost Chide God for making you that countenance You are, or I will scarce think you have Swam in a gondola. Shakspeare. Of legal fictions, quirks, and glosses, Attorneys' gains, and clients' losses ; Of suits created, lost, and won, How to undo, and be undone, I sing — — Anstey. In casting a glance over the European family of nations, it will be at once, I think, conceded, that in none of them have arrived such material changes, 230 PARIS. political and social, as in France ; that have not only altered the aspect of the people, but have re-acted on all the surrounding countries. In the interval be- tween the peace of 1763 and the commencement of our disputes with the colonies, a certain degree of communication was kept up between the two coun- tries, but it was chiefly confined to persons of rank and fortune, who made Paris their stepping stone and resting place in the course of their European travels, and was by no means of such nature as to confer any substantial benefits on either country ; while the visits of the French to England " were few and far between." From the year 1779 to 1815 we were in a state of hostility, with the ex- ception of the period from the peace after the American war to 1793, and the short truce of Amiens. Our knowledge of the state of France and of the French during the greatest part of that time was very scanty, and we received it much tinctured with prejudice, naturally to be expected during a period of warfare. It may, therefore, not be presuming too much to say, that our knowledge of the French people, their institutions, and the various modifications of the social state, brought PARIS. 231 about by the mighty changes they had undergone, could only be founded on the experience we have gained since the peace. The period I have par- tially attempted to describe, may serve as a ground- work to those who wish to form deductions relative to passing events ; it may therefore stand as an ex- cuse for a few further remarks, which I have had occasion to make in subsequent visits to France since 1815. The pleasantest way to get to Paris is by Havre and the Seine, not only as shortening the land travelling, but for the satisfaction of having some- thing to look at. The approach by the sea is striking, by the commanding appearance of the hills above Ingouville, and the two light-houses ; while the entrance of the port of Havre, and the opening of the Seine on the right, are very inter- esting. The second time I made this my route to Paris, we left Southampton in the morning with a fair cargo of live stock ; there were many ladies on board, and a new married couple going to Paris for the honey spoon. There was sufficient motion to discompose the stomachs of several of the passengers, but the ladies consoled themselves that they would 232 paris. soon have their tea on shore. As we entered the harbour about eight in the evening, every one was preparing to land, when we received an interdict, and a guard was placed to prevent communication with the shore. Some absurd report had reached Havre the day before, that the cholera had again appeared in England, and we must be first visited by the health officer attached to the customs. This great functionary had either gone out of town, or was not to be disturbed, and our quarters were set- tled for the night. There were not berths below for one third of the party, and there was the strangest scene on deck of bivouac possible, while the French people were amused, taking a survey of our cushion encampment by the light of a bright moon. Not having had any great quantity of sleep, I went, in the morning, to refresh myself, in a hot sea-water bath. They are of tin, and have a sheet forced down into them as a sort of lining. I had just got into full possession of one of these, when the woman who serves came in. She placed before me, across the bath, a thing like a music desk made of fir, and, without asking my opinion on the matter, TARIS. 233 placed before me one of Madame de Genlis' novels, to help me to pass my solitude. There was such screaming of parrots and parro- quets, chattering of monkeys, and pungent smells in the streets of Havre, that I could have imagined myself once more at Rio Janeiro. The upper part of the town near the land gate is, however, pleasant* The theatre is a handsome building, standing in a square, or open place, and overlooking the wet docks, containing vessels of all nations. The suburb of Ingouville on the slope of the hill, was at one time much frequented by the English ; but they have since, in general, migrated farther, A large seaport, like Havre, is not the best place for econo- mical purposes, and there are few inducements in the shape of pleasure. It has been such a beaten track, that it would be superfluous to speak of the different objects and scenery on the river; but an impression remains on the mind connected with history in passing Harfleur, a seaport in the time of the Henrys, now above a mile from the river. Hon- fleur, and Tankerville castle interest in the same point of view. The first time I went up was in a steamer of very moderate power. The engineer 234 PARTS. was an English black, who would not obey the orders in any language but his own, so that our skipper, who could not master the pronunciation of "stop," called out "stoap, stoap," much to our amusement. It was a spring tide, and as we passed Quillebeuf the water was bubbling and eddying about, much to the alarm of our fresh water navi- gator; and when he came in sight, near Villequier, of the masts of two brigs sunk in the sands, his pre- sence of mind actually failed him, he gave the wrong word to the helmsman as we were caught in an eddy, so that, for a few seconds, the boat's head was down the river. He afterwards run us on shore twice, and we were fourteen hours in get- ting to Rouen, which is now accomplished in half the time. From Rouen to Paris by the upper road is shorter, but as dull as the route from Calais ; the lower road, by Louviers, and by the banks of the Seine, is much pleasanter. They have learned in many parts of France the plan of macadamising the roads, but they forget one essential part of the process, remo- ving the mud and dust. Going out of Rouen, by the lower road, and under the great chalk hill, it paris. 235 was a close and warm evening, the horses and clumsy diligence raised such a cloud as was quite suffocating. Shutting the windows was of no use, the dust was so fine it penetrated every where. About twenty miles from Rouen, the vine country properly begins. We notice also the Chateau de Rosny, once the residence of Sully, and latterly the property of the Duchess of Berri. In several visits that I paid to Paris, I can best charge my memory with the years 1827-8, during which I resided in the immediate vicinity ; and a period of twelve years may be sufficient to point out contrasts with the time I have taken as a basis. At the last period I have mentioned Charles the 1 Oth had succeeded to his brother, and was, exter- nally, in a flourishing position ; but when one looked closer into the state of affairs, all was hollow beneath. The fate of the elder Bourbons has been often compared to the Stuarts in this country, and certainly Charles bore, in many respects, a great affinity to James the 2nd ; — the same bigotry, ob- stinacy, and want of knowledge of what was passing about him. The remark of Buonaparte on all the family, that 236 paris. they had learned nothing, and forgotten nothing, was strictly and literally true with respect to Charles the 1 Oth. Without knowing or recollecting how loosely religion hung about his new subjects, he began by endeavouring to bring things back to what they were a hundred years before. The Jesuits were recalled ; all the ancient external forms of the Roman Catholic religion revived, with pro- cessions in the streets and churches, that only pro- duced ridicule. It became the fashion of the court to afficher religion, but it was not the mode else- where. Courtiers are, at all times and places, such slaves, that no general influence of a people's man- ners can be drawn from their practices. I went once into a newly-built church at St. Germains, opposite to the old palace. It was well filled with persons of both sexes, most of whom belonged to families of the ancient noblesse, many of whom resided there. On the same day I went into ano- ther church in the same place, near the market ; it was quite full, but there were only two men in the congregation, and they both appeared to be nearly eighty years of age. To please the court also, some show was made in Paris. Many ancient and half- paris. 237 forgotten saints, Saint Genevieve inclusive, were re-painted for signs to all manner of shops. I recollect one hosiery warehouse, near the passage Vivienne, which had au petit Jesus — marchand bon- netier, insribed on its sign. There was a great revival of court etiquette, and all the vicinity of the palace spoke of the ancien regime. Amongst the troops that formed the gar- rison of Paris, including the foot guards and cavalry, the Parisians were extremely annoyed by the revival of the Swiss guards, in scarlet, whose presence called up disagreeable recollections that ought to have been buried. There was also a revival of the Cent Suisses, for the internal duties of the Palace, and the escorts out of doors were formed by the Gardes du corps, the privates of which had all rank as officers, and were supposed to be devoted to the Sovereign. While all this served to throw an outward splen- dour on the Court, it tended much to alienate the mass of the people, and the measure of disarming the national guard added to the discontent. Charles used to drive out often in his carriage with the young Due de Bordeaux, but little notice was 238 paris. taken of him during these excursions. When not thus employed, he was generally hunting or shoot- ing, at St. Germains, little dreaming of the storm that was gathering round him. On the 4th of November, after a deal of preparation, the patron saint of the King had the honours of a fete ; there was a balloon let off, a theatre erected in the Champs Elysees, le mat de cocagne, and many other fooleries. I walked among the crowd in every direction, and did not hear even a single approving expression, much less any shew of loyalty ; even though the Duchess de Berri kept driving up and down, nodding her little head, there was no answer to her bows, although there was a feeling in a certain degree in her favour for what she had suffered. It was altogether, weather included, the coldest and dullest illustration of loyalty I had ever seen. At this period, the " gentlemen of the press" had their muzzles on, and scarcely anything was to be seen in the papers but the King having heard mass, or gone there to hunt, and here to shoot, which brought to my recollection Dangeau's Memoirs, relative to Louis the 14th, who, in every second or third page of his diary, has a memoran- paris. 239 dum, " Sa Majeste prit medicine." Some attempts were made for the better observance of Sunday ; the shops were ordered to be closed till one o'clock, which was obeyed by putting half the shutters up, like our pastry cooks; one theatre, the French opera, was closed on that evening, but all the rest remained accessible, and the gambling houses were open all the day. There was but little difference in the external appearance of Paris, the arc de triomphe de V etoile still remained unfinished, but the Exchange had thrown off its shell, and appeared in all its brightness. It is one of the handsomest buildings in Paris. It has a curious effect to go into the gallery at the time of change, and hear the extraordinary noise and buzz there is. The roof is metallic, and reverberates the sounds, so that when all the people are gabbling below about the prices of funds, the voices are echoed by the roof and create an extraordinary noise, like the humming of fifty hives of bees ; it might give one an idea of the confusion of Babel. Women were allowed at one time to " transact" business here, and their sharp tones might be traced out of the general noise. The Scotch have points of resemblance to the 240 PARIS. French, owing to the long connexion between the countries, and one thing struck me with reference to this subject, shewing a similarity. In Edinburgh they have an excellent sheltered walk in the Ex- change, but the merchants prefer the open high street. In Paris, a large party have deserted la bourse, and adjourn every day to the front of Tor- toni's, on the Boulevard, liable to all the interrup- tions of such a locality. This Exchange, which took a long period to finish, was put to the credit of Buonaparte, as among the useful and ornamental additions he had made to Paris. His fame, in that respect, has been loudly trumpeted by the French, and repeated nearly as often by the English. Let us examine the affair a little more closely. The quays are put forward in the most prominent point. There can be, how- ever, no great matter for praise to any Government for preventing the river from overflowing the streets, and a work of that kind must, of necessity, be hand- some, by the nature of the materials used. The reparation and completion of the Louvre, the con- struction of the bridges of Austerlitz and Jena, the formation of a general depot of grain, the great wine PARIS. 241 market on the Quai St. Bernard, the slaughter-houses out of the town, and the fountains in the market places, are generally derived from his sanction and authority. But it may be asked, would none of these improvements, called for by the increasing intelligence of the times, have been carried into effect by the Government, let it have been what it might? Carrying on these works increased his popularity among the Parisians, and gave employ- ment to a mass of people, who might have been found to be " troublesome customers/ 5 But what benefits did the reign of Buonaparte confer on the interior of the country, in any one shape of adminis- tration, facility of communication, or means of giving general circulation to the products of the country ? The great roads of France, that furnished debouches to the army, were kept in as good order as French roads can be, and the most magnificent of them all, the road over the Simplon, was constructed solely with that view. But were not all the other cross and indirect roads left in the most miserable state possible ? — and not one single canal was completed or opened during the empire. No country in Europe requires a system of canals 242 Paris. and railroads so much as France, from the simple reason of being deficient in materials for road mak- ing ; granite, limestone, and flint are scarce, and in general, the only thing they have is that soft porous freestone, good for building, but which grinds into fine powder when laid on the road, and is the reason why the greatest part of the high ways are paved, leaving in the centre a space, badly constructed for draught or rapidity, and at both sides a collection of mud in winter, and dust in summer. Wanting canals, they have not the means of carrying the de- ficient materials from one district to another, without immense expense and labour. In England, where the roads and horses are so good, railroads will be only a partial advantage ; but their establishment in France will totally alter affairs, and place that coun- try in a novel and most advantageous position, ex- ternally and internally. They see its full benefits, and the railroad mania is running now very high with our neighbours. They have not yet got out of leading strings as to the influence of Government, which is to take the lead in all these new projects, and, probably, injure or delay their completion. They have now what they call a rayon of railroads Paris. 243 laid down in imagination, that would require forty- years to finish, and the whole revenues of the coun- try to supply the means. If they can manage Brussels, Calais, and Orleans, they may be satisfied for a pretty good long period. The winter of 1827-8 was open and mild, favour- able, of course, to the sports of Charles Dix, and he was either at Versailles, or St. Germains, four days in the week. I have already attempted to describe the turn out for hunting at St. Germains, where two stags were generally killed each day ; — it was regular butchery, as the poor brutes could not get away. It served as an excuse for a gallop, and it is the best place near Paris for that exercise ; the alleys are either of loose sand or green sod, very good for horses' corns, and a person may traverse many miles in this chase, as the wood of St. Ger- mains is thirty miles in circumference. The alleys are so much alike that a stranger may lose his way, and if unacquainted with the names of the different carrefours, where the lanes meet, he may wander half the day. There are in the wood numbers of roebuck, which are shot occasionally ; there are also some wild boars and swine. At the pheasantry r 2 244 paris. might be seen the carcases of dead horses laid out on shutters, the maggots that are bred being the chief part of the food of the young birds, — rather revolting to the epicures in game. Beside the wood, tliere is the terrace of St. Germains, nearly a mile in length, of good turf. It overlooks the plain of St. Denis, and affords an excellent place for exercise. For these reasons, St Germains is to be preferred to all other outlets from Paris, by those who delight in horses and carriages. In summer the wood offers shady rides, and shelter in winter ; it is only not available in snow. The railroad from Paris will add very much to the agremens of the place, as the lumbering machines, called desirees, took two hours to go eleven miles. It was said that, notwithstand- ing the beauty of the situation, Louis the 14th did not like the position of St. Germains, because it overlooked and had constantly in view the church of St. Denis. He did not like gazing every day at his future tomb. The evenings generally passed very pleasantly; a considerable number of the old noblesse resided there for sundry motives. The governor, Count Bozonde Perlgord, brother of Talleyrand, was a con- Paris. 245 stant promoter of sociability. Count Lally Tollen- dal, and many others of the same rank in French society, added their endeavours to the general fund of good fellowship, assisted by many English fami- lies of great respectability. The evenings were passed in the various amusements of cards, music and dancing. When the last was the order of the night, nothing more easy of accomplishment ; it was only to send over to the Chateau for as many of the gardes du corps as were wanted, and the affair was settled. No hunting for half reluctant dandies, or being disappointed of fox-hunters, or pretext- makers; as certain as a ball was decreed, so sure it was of being carried into effect, as far as the men were concerned, and in cases of that kind the failure seldom happens for want of attendance of the ladies. The establishment of the gardes du corps was most excellent pour cela. Paris, as usual, gave its accustomed winter dis- play of balls, parties, &c. One of the most bril- liant fetes of the winter was that given by La Fitte, on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter with the son of Marshal Ney. Almost all the English 246 paris. of respectability in Paris and the neighbourhood were present on this occasion. In the month of February, 1828, I witnessed something very curious with respect to the state of the atmosphere. I had intended to go into Paris early, and was up betimes; the weather was, for the season, beautiful, the sun shining bright and clear, and only a slight wind stirring. On looking, accidentally, at a barometer in the house, I was sur- prised to see that it had fallen very low, consider- ably below 28°. It was an old fashioned machine, after the manner of the inventor, Toricelli. I thought it had gone out of order, but to put the matter to right, I consulted two other instruments in the possession of my landlord, who was a great fancier of those kind of things; the result was exactly the same. When I went into Paris I sought for some confirmation of the remarks, and found them corroborated by reference to other barometers, two of which were English. On point- ing this out to their owners, they said we should have a great storm of wind or rain that night. But no such thing; the night was fine, and the next morning equally so, but it brought the intelligence Paris. 247 of a very smart shock of earthquake in French Flan- ders, in the region where the coal mines are situated. It is not difficult to imagine that on the spot where an earthquake takes place, an influence might be exerted on the mercury in the tube, but having occurred at such a distance, it is not so easy to guess why the column of air at Paris should have been so much affected. There was apparently no other cause, as the weather was moderate for a whole week afterwards. A few days afterwards my chimney took fire, which is nothing when you are used to it. I had often seen barrack chimnies swept in this way, and I was listening rather philosophically to the roaring that was going on, when my landlord rushed in, and before I had time to understand what he was about, he ran into the next room, pulled a sheet off my bed, and crammed it up the chimney. The draught of air being thus impeded, the fire went out gra- dually, but when I came to remonstrate with my host for his cavalier style of disposing of my night drapery, he said if the fire had been discovered by the police, he would have been fined ; which, I sup- 248 paris. pose, he thought sufficient reason for burning my sheet to pieces. In a future visit to Paris, in 1831, I had landed, as before, at Havre. Having taken a steamer on one occasion and the upper road on another, I went this time by the line that touches in three or four places on the banks of the Seine, and continues even for some time along them. I got perched up along side the conducteur, who was a very conversible sort of a person, but who introduced every topic with the phrase of " par example ;" we had some chat on agriculture, breeding of horses, &c. He was busy hammering at a worn out flint to get a light for his pipe, when I gave him one of the lucifer matches, that were then of recent invention ; they excited his surprise, and the first question he asked was what they cost. The weather in the latter end of July was beautiful, and the journey consequently plea- sant. At Caudebec we breakfasted. J have often taken that meal soldier fashion, — any thing that could be got ; I have seen the varieties at a Scotch breakfast, as well as French, but here, for the first time, I met with pickled tripe as part of our morn- ing collation. At Rouen, the house that I had used Paris. 249 before, the Hotel de P Europe, had closed its career, and many of these in the interior of the town had fallen into comparative decay ; a large new house situated on the quay drew all the English travellers. It was kept by an Englishman, Brunton, of the theatrical family. There was an excellent table d' hote, the bed rooms were very fair, and most of them had a cheerful look-out on the river. Tak- ing the lower road again to Paris, it crosses the Seine at Louviers, and is much pleasanter than the upper one. My arrival in Paris was at the close of the fetes of the first anniversary of July. As it was business that led me there, I did not hurry on the road to see the sights, and w T as as well pleased to have avoided all the noise and nonsense. There had been a large band stationed in the Thuilleries Gardens, to perform national airs. I heard the same band perform at the opera ; the stage to the ceiling was converted into an orchestra; there were 110 singers, and 130 instruments. They sang the Marseilloise con strepito, accompanied by the great- est portion of the parterre. I believe after this exhibition at the opera, at which were present two of the sons of Louis Philippe, this republican anthem 250 PARIS. was discontinued, it was found to be unpeutropfort. The band I have just alluded to were all wind instruments, except the double basses ; they played afterwards, the overture of the Gazza Ladra, with a precision and effect that quite surprised me. Their military bands are much superior to ours ; the best I ever heard, was a very small one belong- ing to the company of the gardes du corps, that was stationed at St. Germains ; it consisted only of ten, but they were all first-rate players on their several instruments. Our bands are formed of boys, generally the children of soldiers, who are set to work without any reference to their tastes or wishes, and they generally perform what they have to do quite after the manner of task work ; their instructor, in three cases out of four, being quite incompetent to the business of teaching, his knowledge confined merely to the practical use of his own instrument. Very few indeed of our masters of band know any thing at all of the theory of music, the rules of com- position, or even the arrangement of music put into their hands for adaptation. Whatever Paris may have gained connected with its liberty, it had, at this time, lost very consider- PARIS, 251 ably on the score of public splendour. The palace of the Thuilleries was once more deserted, and the gay-looking and well-appointed guards, cavalry, infantry, and the Swiss, had all disappeared ; their places were taken by one or two rather dingy- looking, and under -sized regiments of the line, and the national guard ; this force, first raised by La Fayette, put down by Charles Dix, about which so much has been said, and who have done so very little to merit it. I was much struck on visiting my former residence, St. Germains, to see the alteration that had taken place ; the whole royalist society had been dislocated, the house of the late governor divided into two, and the ground laid out for new buildings. The royal hunt had died an unnatural death, the pheasants were starving for want of maggots and the dancing, coffee-drinking, billiard-playing gardes du corps were dispersed over the world. The tone of the society of the place had infected all the habitues^ and I heard groans both loud and deep from an English lady resident, at the deplorable change that had come to mar all her ideas and associations; in place of hear- ing the phrase often repeated of Vive le Roi quand 252 paris. metrne, there were the hateful Marseilloise and Pa- risienne sung, and ground on organs in all di- rections. Among other reasons for being in Paris at this time, I had a slight interest relative to an action of damages I had brought against an Englishman for breach of contract. I have spoken of the criminal proceedings in the courts of France, which go rather hard against those charged with offences, but they have a sort of hope left of escape, by appealing in what is called cassation, even after sentence of death founded on the clearest evidence has been passed against the prisoner. In the civil courts this right of appeal holds good ; a verdict obtained in the tribunal de premiere instance, may be made a subject of appeal to la Cour Royale, and is often done when the defendant hopes to tire out the patience of his pursuer, or thinks he cannot conveniently come down with the bail required ; the prosecutor being obliged, in following up a cause of ever so small an amount, to give caution to the amount of 500 francs, (£20) in order that the costs may assured. This, in the event of the defendant making himself scarce, or not having effects to cover the damages, is for- paris. 253 feited, which is rather a tax for following up lawful game. The French have recently begun to find out that the Code Napoleon is not like the laws said to be of the, Medes and Persians, and that there is, as in all other human institutions, room for improvement. In the municipal administration, the functionaries are stipendiary, and, like other dogs in office, there is often amongst them "much cry and little wool." At the time I speak of, I met by accident, in the Gazette des Tribunaux, a rural proces verbal, or report of the assistant mayor, anent the theft of a duck, I had intended to have translated this valu- able document, which appeared in the paper I have alluded to — (it was not easy to determine whether it was inserted in sober sadness, or by w&y of joke) — but I thought there would be a great loss, both in the orthography and style of this French Dogberry. I have, therefore, put it into the shape of a note, to be read or skipped at the fancy of the reader. I fear its length may appear rather a trespass, but it could not well be abridged.* * "Laval. Ala Mairie de Chalons 19 Jan veer 1829. " L' adjoint de la commune de Chalon, canton d' argentre depart- ment de la Mayenne — pour apsence du Maire. 254 Paris. I had gone down to my old quarters in the village of Boulogne, to enquire for mine ancient host, but " Monsieur un evenement extraordinaire vient *T arriver en notre commune Savoir le dimanche 18 Janveir 1829, sur les quatre heures et demi dusoir Le Sieur Jean Landais est arrive chez nous, a fait la declaration suivante. " Qu' il c' est evadez, de chez lui un canar, le cherchant fat a la fonetre d' un logement occupe par Madeleine Gondar, veuve verger, apercoi de la lumeire. S' apergoi qu* on travailait environ celte bete, recherche fuite par Julie Roubois domestique du dit sieur Landais, va en faire son rapport a son maitre. " Le dit Landais est venu chez rnoi a desein, de faire une fotiille generale, nous sommes rransporte chez la dite Madeleine Gondar, la trouvant chez elle lui avons fuit ces propos, qu' on etait a la re- cherche du fet cy dezus. " Cette femme ces evade sons pretexte de chercher Perinne Boursin demeurant a loger chez elle cette fille Boursin a dit, c' est tnoi qui V ai tus d' un coup de balais. Qu' elle alait, la paier (la Canne). On a allume une chandelle ou la trouve la bete, la tete coupe, le corps de la bete grille et flambe, avec la plume aux proche, qui fait assez connaitre. Nous avons pris cette bete, et depose a la mairie, et y reste jusqu' a nouvelle decision, cette re- cherche s' est faite en presence des sieurs Laroche et Jean Mar- chais de notre commune. " Ce considere Monsieur de Veiller a ce que justice nous soit rendue pour que le calme la police regne en notre commune, vu qu' il y a meme plusieurs annee quil se commet un pillage presque continuel en toute upece de Volaille, et bois de chauffage. Cette Madeleine Gondar est eze, peut vivre sans suffrir de necessite d* autant plus coupable. C est ce qu' a V honneur les fets cinsere et veritable. Votre serviteur tl Signe, " P. Aubry, "Adjoint." Paris. 255 found I had lost my pains. Whether they took me for an emissary of the police, or some other cause, I could not find out whether M. Bernard was still in the land of the living. The person I enquired of pretended to be ignorant of the existence of such a person. It is rather a curious place that village ; with the exception of the trades of butchers, bakers, grocers, &c, medical men, and the public function- aries, the whole population consists of washer-men and women. The art is carried on here on a large scale, the master having a great number of subordi- nates. The principal part, the washing of heavy and large articles, is carried on by the side of the river, where rows of women are to be seen sitting on their heels, or kneeling, and pounding away at the drapery with a flat board. The other manipu- lations of blueing, starching, ironing, and crimping, are all carried on in separate departments, that look like manufactories. The French (and here another similarity with the Scotch) have immense stores of house linen. This is all washed up during the fine weather in autumn, slightly sprinkled with water, and laid up in presses for winter use, when it is brought out and put on tables or beds, without any 256 paris. of what we call the preliminary airing ; indeed, it would not be easy to accomplish that operation at a French fire. After the " great washes," les blan- chisseurs discharge several of their operatives, and keep only enough for the casual necessities of tra- vellers and strangers in Paris, and for the fine linen of the Parisian belles and beaux. It might be ima- gined that a pair of sheets besprinkled in October, and packed up, would not be very comfortable to the feelings in December, but there are no com - plaints on that head.* The flock mattresses are frequently taken to pieces to be combed out and beaten, and at other times are kept dry and turned, so that a damp bed in France is of rare occur- rence ; and, for the enjoyment of rest, they are pre- ferable to beds in this country, forming a sort of juste milieu between the smothering softness of a feather bed and the rigidity of a hair mattress. I had taken Boulogne on my way to St. Cyr, where 1 had understood a French friend of mine had some property. I could not find any more direct conveyance than by going to Versailles and * I have since read in Sir W. Scott's Life that he picked up a severe rheumatism in this way. paris. 257 taking my chance ; there I found by accident a vehi- cle going on the road I wished, and I mounted en lapin. This place is somewhat celebrated by the estab- lishment formed there for young females, by Madame de Maintenon. This, along with other foundations of the same nature, disappeared at the time of the Revolution. The buildings have since been applied to the education of young men for the army. They are not striking in their appearance, having the look half conventual, half barrack ; they are also badly situated. I understood that the discipline in this military pepiniere was somewhat severe, and the examination strict. This college, in conjunction with the military school near les Invalides, formed part of the source from whence the French army was officered, which, during the time of Charles the Tenth was done in this way : — one third of the appointments of new officers to vacancies rested with the colonel of the regiment, the recommenda- tions of the Minister of War being tacitly allowed to come under this head; one third was drawn from the deserving non-commissioned officers of the whole army ; and the remaining third, was composed of cadets from these two named establishments, and 258 paris. young gentlemen who served for a certain period as privates in the cavalry and infantry. I recollect one instance, where the nephew of the Duke D* E , who commanded a regiment of the lancers of the guard, was serving under his uncle as private in the regiment, and was seen in that capacity sweeping the barrack yard, which is part of the general duty of the men, and not confined, as with us, to the corporal of pioneers and his myrmidons. In the French army, this portion of the regimental force, under the name of sapeurs, seem to claim rather a dignified position and carriage ; consider- able taste is shown in giving full display to their implements and tools, and they march with flowing beards, axe in hand, in front of their corps, with a good deal of pretension. In the national guard there is much dandyism about the pioneers, they wear false beards, have fine white leather aprons, and are chosen for their athletic appearance, very different from the dirty, snivelling-looking wretches we have at the head of our regiments on the march, who are the mere slaves of the quarter-master. I recollect seeing at the opera, in the grand ballet of la Tentation, a whole regiment of diablerie intro- paris. 259 duced, with grotesque masks ; at their head marched, in due order, a corps of what might be called the devil's own pioneers, with all the utensils, pick axe, spade, saw, and hatchet. In our service, we encumber the unfortunate man with a firelock, bayonet, belts, pouches, and amunition, which he never makes use of by any accident. On returning to Rouen, I took up my abode for the day at Brunton's, on the quay ; there was a large assemblage at dinner, not only of travellers, but natives, who find there good cheer at moderate cost. An Englishman told me he had found the table d y hole so much to his taste, that he had remained at Rouen a whole month on that account alone. At twelve at night, I embarked in the steamer, Louis Philippe, that took us to Quillebeuf in little more than six hours ; here we had to wait, as I have already mentioned, for the springtide, to be enabled to pass the bar of sand formed where the Seine widens into an estuary. At the spring tides of the equinoxes, it is customary for the peo- ple of the country to go to Quillebeuf to observe this sea cataract, which tumbles over the bank of s2 260 PARIS. sand with great noise, and impetuosity, particularly if aided by a strong north-west gale. On arriving in Havre, 1 enquired of Madame Lemoine, who kept the Hotel de Y Europe, if many English had come over in my absence? That good lady, who now has the Hotel de la Terrasse, Rue Rivoli, in Paris, replied, " Yes, a great many, and among the rest an English gentleman, his wife, and fifteen children. Mais, quinze enfans, mon- sieur ! ! ! iterated my hostess, holding up both her hands, as if altogether overpowered by having to describe such an atrocity. It is to persons of this description alone, that France offers any advan- tages as a residence. They get their children edu- cated and fed in a sort of wholesale contract, and although neither are of the best description, yet any thing of the same kind would be nearly impossible in England. To make this sort of thing economical a long residence is required, as frequent movements of the tribe would carry away all the savings. There is still a drawback to any man that is blessed with such an offspring ; as the elder ones grow up and are fit to get out in the world, their PARIS, 261 parents are out of the way of seizing any favourable opportunity of pushing them on, and the unfortu- nate father has to make repeated journies to Eng- land, often without success. CHAP. IX. VAGABONDS CLASSIFIED A TRAVELLER ENTERED STRASBURGH ALSATIAN SEXTONS IN ALT HIGH ROAD TO PARIS NANCY CHURCH BEFORE DAYLIGHT CAMPAIGN, 1814 ST. DIZIER-— VINTAGE BONDY PANTHEON JEAN JACQUES PASSPORTS THE WANDERING JEW RELIGION BASTILLES THE BEST OF KINGS AN INDIFFERENT DEALER IN SNUFF — PROGRESS IN THE USEFUL ARTS — CONVERSION OF THE RENTES ALGIERS. But thou, exulting and abounding river, Making thy waves a blessing as they flow — ***** A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks, But these and half their fame have pass'd away, And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks; Their very graves are gone, and what are they ? Byron. The sentry looked up in his face ; never saw such a nose in his life. Slawkenbergius. U Aurore annonce unjour serein, Vite a V ouvrage, Et reprenons courage, Fillettes, flute, et tambourin, Mettez les vendangeurs en train, Beranger. I entered France on my last visit by the Ger- man frontier; it was at the commencement of the PARIS. 263 vintage, and the weather, in the language of the country, magnifique. Travellers have been often described, and their objects applauded or sneered at, according to the fancy or taste of readers. It would appear that these interesting vagabonds in the progress of time change their character ; the old species disappear, and new seedlings start from the soil. Sterne describes the travellers of his day, as divided into the idle, the inquisitive, the lying, the proud, the sple- netic, and the sentimental ; of these, only the first two at present exist. Lying, now-a-days, is quite hors de combat ; no person will take the trouble of inventing what can be so easily proved to be untrue. The proud and splenetic seldom give vent to their bile in travelling, because nobody cares for them. As to sentimental travellers, I do not believe that such an animal ever existed, and that Larry Sterne's pretensions to that distinction were all fudge, or mere affectation. I should not envy him that spe- cies of sentiment, which led him into soft sympathy with a begging monk, and to pour forth a monody on a dead ass, while he neglected his own mother in her old age. The varieties of travellers now-o'- 264 paris. days are as great as those of geraniums, strawber- ries, or apples. A few specimens of misanthropy, and its antithesis ; geologists, with endless numbers of all other ologists, antiquarians, classical tourists, and a whole budget of sketchers, who have prowled into every dark avenue of the continental towns, to paint a ricketty garret, stuck on to the walls of a cathedral, or a dirty old woman in a picturesque night cap, dabbling in a wash tub. There are the utilitarians, the men of statistics, speculators in rail- ways and steam-boats ; others who go abroad for the purpose of gambling, and a species of traveller which Yorick never dreamt of in his philosophy, — a man running over a given quantity of foreign land and water, to qualify him for admission to a club. Then there is the whole tribe of book- makers, male and female, who have not left a spot in Europe untouched, have gradually migrated to Asia and America ; and, unless there be discovered in this age of invention some method of getting to the moon, or planets, there will be nothing left for travellers to write about. Among all these different classes, I do not recol- lect seeing the military travellers mentioned, TARIS. 265 although, perhaps, there are no persons who feel so great an interest in visiting the accustomed haunts of men. In common with the antiquary and classi- cal traveller, they may dream in the Troad, on the banks of the Scamander, about " Helen fair," and the row she kicked up ; or may accompany, in ima- gination, the Ten Thousand on their retreat ; look on the scenes of Salamis and Actium, and pace over the plain of Marathon in a "fine phrenzy; endeavour to clear up the disputed point at which Hannibal passed the Alps, follow him on his march to the south, and regret that he did not teach the Romans "a great moral lesson ;" then follow Julius Caesar in his Gallic expedition (not secret) and find out the exact places on which all the battles of the olden time were fought. In addition to these, the military man has all the resources of modern history familiar to him, and wherever armies have marched, there is not a spot, however barren or uninterest- ing it may be, that has not been the scene of mili- tary movements, battles, skirmishes, or bivouacs. I have already hinted how these reminiscences give interest to the dull and uninteresting country of Flanders, and the same may be said with respect to 266 paris. a great portion of the Rhine. To the general tra- veller, nothing can be duller than the Lower Rhine, from Dort to Dusseldorf, with the exception of Nimeguen, there is not a single object for the eye to rest upon, it is all one wide plain without eleva- tion, or trees, and there is no place can be less in- teresting. The military man, however, as he wends his way through the reedy marshes of the Maes and Waal, will imagine this waste of waters bound up with frost, and the army of Pichegru marching over them to the conquest of Holland, — the first instal- ment of the successes of the republicans. Nimeguen is curious in itself, as the only elevated ground in Holland, of which it is the frontier ; but it also has its remembrance in its gallant defence, and sortie of the besieged. From Cologne upwards, where the sketchers and lovers of beauty of scenery begin to flourish, the military man adds these to his own views, and while he admires the ancient castles as picturesque objects, he does not fail in imagination to man the walls of each fortalice, and see round it a beleaguring host. He has less to draw on his fancy when passing Mayence, Coblentz, Ehrenbreitstein (now restored to its pristine paius. 267 strength), Worms, Spire, Manheim, and Phillips- bourg; they have each their recollections, which do not jar with the contemplation of the natural beau- ties of Drachenfels, Bacharach, and Johannisberg. Even the insignificant village of Kaub afforded me interest in viewing it, as the spot where Blucher's army passed the Rhine in 1814, on their march to Paris. At Baden Baden, the small stream that once served as the boundary between the Confeder- ation of the Rhine and Germany, gave room for reflections on the mutability of fortune. Although aware of the demolition of the fort of Kehl, I felt a degree of regret at not having seen the most cele- brated tete depont in Europe ; the scene of so many disputes, combats, and negociations. It was, in its way, quite a disappointment, in place of a fort brist- ling with cannon, to see a small post of the troops of Baden at the bridge end. On entering the gate of Strasburgh, new ideas came into my mind. The story of Slawkenbergius was before me. While the passports were giving in, and certain questions answered relative to the luggage, I looked round for the bandy-legged drum- mer, the corporal and his wife, and had half a mind 268 PARIS. to ask the French douanier how far it was to the promontory of noses. The French gentry of the customs gave not much trouble, but the passports had to be fully investi- gated. I accompanied some ladies on this journey, and their countenances were examined with suf- ficient scrutiny. It was the time the Duchess of Berri had taken her spree in France, and every pet- ticoat occasioned visible jealousy and alarm among the functionaries of government. A lady's maid, who had been mentioned only in the passport as une domestique, was obliged to^have^a separate one in her own name, with personal description, &c. Amongst the wonders of the Cathedral, was the celebrated clock, which does not now go ; and, although it differs from other clocks in this respect, the mere circumstance of its not moving put an end to its claim as a wonder. In this compartment, or nave of the building, is a small, narrow gallery, at the end of which is a representation or effigy of the builder, seated, leaning over the rail ; — the deception is quite perfect. The view from the top of the building is one of immense extent. I have seen others, com- manding a greater sweep of the horizon, and more PARIS. 269 beautiful and varied in detail, but I Lave seen none that give a more powerful military interest. The course of the Upper Rhine is replete with recollec- tions, and the country on both sides, but particularly the right bank, have been the scenes of many opera- tions. From this point a great portion of Swabia and the Black Forest, are spread out as on a map. The latter derives its title from its appearance, which is very dark, until its farthest outline is lost in grey mist. It brought to my mind many of the great events that have passed on this scene, and most pro- minently, the celebrated retreat of Moreau. On the other bank of the river commence the mountains of Vosges, celebrated for the scientific campaigns of Turenne and Montecuculi. Their operations must, for a great part, have been visible from the roof of this church, from whence, I am told, under favourable circumstances, the view extends as far as the mountains of Jura. We found on the top of the cathedral a whole school broke loose for a holiday ; a rather unusual place for games of romps. A great portion of the roof is quite flat, and leaded, and part of it put me in mind of the quarter deck of a man of war, as 270 PARIS. there were sundry cabins from which issued the guardians of the place, with their wives and fami- lies. There may be some disputes about the altitudes of different churches, but I will venture to say, that the sextons of Strasburgh, in going to roost, enjoy the highest perch of any of their frater- nity in Europe. I climbed up to the highest accessible part of one of the towers, which did not in any way recompense me for the fatigue, as the increase of the extent of horizon was not at all per- ceptible, and I had only the satisfaction of making that truly English boast of having been there. I cannot call this a u vaulting ambition," but a mounting one, that induces the English to go further than other people have done before them ; witness the visits to the summit of Mont Blanc, at the evident risk of the guides' lives and their own ; and for what benefit ? The turret at Strasburgh offers few resources for scratching names, but every " quoin of vantage" is seized on for the purpose. I can recollect, many years ago, when the interior of the ball of St. Peter's, at Rome, was nearly all scratched over with these communications ; what it maybe since I cannot pretend to say, but probably PARIS. 271 the early engravers have had all their works obli- terated. The author of the School for Scandal, took a more philosophical view of this matter. The story is told of him, that when on one of his elec- tioneering visits to Staffordshire, he was in a double bedded room with his son, who disturbed him in the morning, and in answer to the question, " Where are you going Tom ?" replied, u Down into a coal- pit.'' " What the devil are you going to do there ?" " Oh, I don't know, perhaps merely to say that I have been there." " Can't you say you have been there ?" was the final question of his dutiful papa. Strasburgh is a fortress of the first class, but as I have said already, in speaking of those concerns, they have rather gone by, and become des beautes passees, witness this place, which has not had for many a long year the honour of a siege, or the compliment of a blockade, or bombardment. As a place d 9 armes on the frontiers of Germany it is, however, of much consequence to France, as it con- tains magazines, arsenals, cannon foundry, and depots of various warlike stores.] L Alsace is not a wine country, the most prevailing culture is that of maize, or Indian corn, which in the autumn hangs 272 paris. in quantities under the eaves of all the heavy-roofed cottages. The lower class of people generally speak German, but in other points assimilate with the French. The high road from Paris being one of the great debouches for troops on the way to Germany, has been always kept in tolerable repair. It is to be one of the new lines of railroad, extending along the Rhine to Basle ; the latter portion between Strasburgh and Basle is, I believe, already in opera- tion. If the Grand Duke of Baden was to make a similar one from Leopold's-haven to Kehl, and that the steam boats on the Rhine worked at night as well as by day, a man might go from London to Switzerland in two doses of opium. It is curious to see how long nations, the most intelligent, remain in leading strings. The French talk a great deal about liberty of commerce and employment of capi- tal, and have expatiated on the laissezfaire system since the days of Colbert ; but, as Fluellen says, "it is all fine worts ;' — they cannot yet stir a peg without the Government, and there is, at this mo- ment, a mighty contest going on between the Ministers and the subscribers to the railroad shares ; paris. 273 the former wishing to persuade the people that nothing can be well done without Government hav- ing a finger in the pie ; being precisely the reverse of the ideas entertained amongst us, and proved by all experience, that the enterprises undertaken by individuals, or numbers combined, flourish, while those of the Government are nearly all wretched failures, and, in fact, nothing but jobs. The French are very proud of their patriotism, but it appears only another word for their love of glory. If great success attends the French arms, and Paris is embellished, these are the two great objects; the internal improvement of the country, and the advance of what may render domestic life more pleasant and secure, are mere secondary con- siderations, and the Government has followed the bias given by the national will. While every attention is paid to adorning Paris, and making it a point which every one visits, nothing has been done to improve the external relations of France with other nations. There is no country in Europe so rich in natural productions, that profits so little by them as France, and even internal commerce has made little or no progress, owing to the defective T 274 PARIS. means of communication. Canals there are scarce any, while the roads, carriages, horses, and drivers have not made one inch of progress to improvement for the last two hundred years; these are all, or nearly all, under the controul of the Government. What will be the case with the projected rail- roads it would not be easy to prophecy. If left entirely to the controul of companies or subscribers, it is doubtful, from the fickleness of the people, if they would ever be completed ; while if left alto- gether to the management of Government, the present generation would have little chance of seeing any of them finished. As a specimen of the lenteur of the Government, I may specify the Arc de Triomphe de V Etoile, doubly a national object, in commemorating the victories of the army, and the glory of the Emperor under whom they were gained; while the building itself should remain as an ornament to Paris. During its construction, the dynasty of the Emperor and another have passed away, and the victories it was raised to record have all been rendered nugatory by subsequent events. Still the building exists, and so far, to the credit of the Government, it is well and substantially built. Paris. 275 They are very long in turning their work out of hand, but, to do them justice, it is always well finished. We have no buildings in these respects in London to compare for a moment with the Ex- change, or church of la Madeleine, in Paris, Amongst the unchangeable monuments of ancient France is the race of postillions, who have not, amidst all the revolutions, undergone the slightest alteration. They are copies of the same picture, and occupy the same jack boots (heir-looms of the post- house) that their grandfathers did, adding about one-fifth more to the weight on the horse's back. These knights of the cracking whip are all under the Government, liable to be dismissed, and their services recorded, for the purpose of receiving pen- sions when beyond their work. This, the French boast, keeps these people in good order from fear of forfeiture. But we manage to get the same good behaviour from post boys, by the fear they have of not being paid, and a little extra fee will give wings to their movements; but it would be in vain to attempt such a thing in France. You might be going for a physician to attend your dearest friend in extremity, you would never persuade him of the t 2 276 paris. jack boots to push on faster; he would not on that account forget to stop to light his pipe, or fail to pull up at his usual halts for the accustomed dram. We arrived at Phalsbourg after the gates were shut, but forced a passage, not with a couple of 1 8- pounders, but with two silver pieces of twenty sous each. This place was once a frontier fortress of Lorraine, but since that province and Alsace were annexed to France, the garrison has enjoyed otium cum smoking and coffee. The place is only remark- able at present for making the best liqueur in France. To avoid delays to travellers in time of war, the post houses were often placed outside for- tified places. We had passed the post-house in the dark. The postillion shouted to order horses to fol- low in the morning, but he had either not been heard, or his message forgotten ; a messenger had, therefore, to be dispatched to the rear, to bring up the cavalry. Nancy struck me as the handsomest country town in France that I had seen. It owes its embellish- ments to the princes of the House of Lorraine, of whom Stanislaus, afterwards King of Poland, was one of the most liberal benefactors. He built the PARIS. 277 large square called la Place Royale, and spent large suras in adding, in other respects, to the beauty of the place. As the horses had been ordered very early, I got up before daylight. As it began to appear, I strolled into one of the churches near the hotel. Inside the building all was in perfect ob- scurity, and I found my way by the light of a distant lamp in a chapel near the great altar. On approach- ing the light, I had nearly fallen over what appeared to be a sack full of something, but, on closer inspec- tion, it was a woman, and another bundle of hu- manity was within a few r paces. These poor people were prostrate at their morning devotions. With- out any reference to the difference of creeds, at least, thought I, these cannot be hypocrites. After leaving Nancy, the country appears to be more densely inhabited; Toul and St. Aubin seemed populous hamlets. At Bar le Due the military in- terest commences, as the scene of operations in 1814 ; a campaign that will only, in future time, be reckoned second to the early campaigns of Buona- parte in Italy. There he was the assailant; in Champagne he was put on his defence, and it cer- tainly was a wonderful one, considering his means, 278 paris. and the number of enemies he had to contend with. His troops were, for the greatest part, new levies, unused to the fatigues of war ; yet with them he executed marches extraordinary for their rapidity, and attacked his enemies separately, and with suc- cess. It may be recollected in England, the doubts and fears that were entertained on hearing of the combats of Champaubert, Montmirail, and Arcis. In the latter affair the Austrian army was forced to quit its position on the Aube, and retire on Nogent- sur-Seine ; but seeing, that by the constant losses he must sustain, although attended with partial suc- cess, his own army must dwindle away, while those of his enemies were constantly reinforced, Napoleon adopted the bold plan of passing to the rear, to inter- cept the supplies of the enemy. If they advanced to Paris, he reckoned on such a resistance as would give time for him to come to the rescue of the capi- tal, or his movement would draw the enemy after him. This, he thought, had been accomplished, when his march was followed up by ten thousand cavalry under Wittgenstein. This clever mea- sure of the allies disconcerted his well-imagined scheme, and threw him out in point of time. After PARIS. 279 passing Brienne, the scene of his early days, he gained the rear of both armies at St. Dezier, and this memorable movement gave a value to the place, which, in itself, it does not possess in the slightest degree. The recollections of this campaign gave a lively interest to this journey. The names of Vitry,* La Fere Champenoise, Chalons, Chateau Thierry, La Ferte sous Jouarre, and Meaux, all recalled either the scenes of combats, or the places from whence the dispatches of the allies were dated on their rapid advance to Paris. I continued figur- ing to myself the possible positions of the contending forces, as each of these places came under my notice. Other agreinens there were not wanting ; — the vintage, in Champagne, w T as just commencing. Perhaps no scene is so much indebted to the state of weather for its interest. I had seen two vintages previously in France, but they chanced to be in wet or showery weather, and I thought them sufficiently dirty, sloppy, and disagreeable ; but now it was quite the reverse. The whole of September, this year, was remarkable for beauty and warmth. In- deed, on the Rhine, the heat had been oppressive * From Vitry, the projected canal to the Rhine. 280 TAR IS. and troublesome. The effect on the grapes was very beneficial, and the satisfactory feeling of a plentiful produce seemed to light up the counte- nances of the peasants, while performing their tasks. At night, where we halted, a fowl was generally roasted, and taken cold with some bread for luncheon, the ensuing day. The breakfast-consisted of bread and grapes, which w T ere freely allowed to be taken from the vineyards, in the baskets, in the waggons, or anywhere we met them. About two o'clock the cold fowl, grapes as before, and a bottle of cham- pagne, purchased at any of the houses on the road, for which they generally asked three francs, but took two and a half. In 1815, when the Russian army was encamped in the plain of Vertus, about 25 miles to the south of Epernay, "they helped themselves," as Von Grollman calls it, to the best wine they could meet with, and the merchants thought they were entirely ruined. But their northern visitors took such a fancy for the sillery and ai 9 that more champagne has been sent to Russia since the peace, than to all the rest of Europe. Although I had been frequently in Paris, it was PARIS. 281 my first visit to that part of it by which the road from Bondy enters. There appeared to be more new buildings here than in any other of the suburbs? and several detached villas in the direction of the forest. The metropolis also, from this approach, appears to much advantage. To use the phrase of certain descriptive novels, the turrets of Notre Dame, and the cupolas of les Invalides and St. Gennevieve, "stood out against the blue sky." I have avoided saying much about the public buildings of Paris, which are so familiar to every one, but have a word about this latter edifice, which, however striking by its distant appearance, fails to satisfy the eye on nearer approach. Originally designed for a church, dedicated to the patroness of Paris, it was in the Revolution converted into a sort of temple to com- memorate the deeds of the most celebrated men of the time ; brought back to its original destination by Charles the 10th, and subsequently restored to its uses as a sort of apotheosis of the heroes of the Revolution. During its different' phases, the revo- lutionary inscription (which, by the way, is the best thing about it) remained unchanged: — " Aux grands hommes, la patrie reconnoissante" It may 282 paris. be there read any day by the curious in these mat- ters. I should be glad to acquit the Government in general of having anything to do with this affair. Of the edifice I believe they are innocent, and they have been forced into the other arrangements by the will of " the many-headed monster." We have no cognizance, I am happy to say, of anything so monstrous. St. Paul's has been sometimes desig- nated "a dirty dungeon*" — admittance four-pence; but in St. Paul's there is a certain part of the fabric dedicated to Divine worship, and another portion to monuments, many of them in good taste, in honour of public men who have distinguished them- selves. But what can be said about this edifice, which the Parisians choose to call "The Pantheon?" Do they mean that it is the resting place of a race of demi-gods, or is it so called after the building in Rome ? In the latter case, it is a poor attempt to raise the dome of the Pantheon, diminished in ex- tent and volume, on freestone stilts. On entering this nondescript edifice, nothing appears. When you ask for the memorials of les grands hommes, a fellow appears and beckons you to descend into the vaults. You there see, in dif- paris. 283 ferent small compartments, a number of very hum- ble cenotaphs, built of the common building stone, and each one having a label with the name, age, &c. of the hero to whom it is dedicated. This is all that you know or hear of the great men. I have mentioned in one or two instances, how long they are in completing their projects in France. In those shades I observed le tombeau of Rousseau, just as it was in 1815, with the exception only that the model in wood was rather falling into pieces, as if it had not been yet quite determined, whether Jean Jacques was really one of Us grands hommes, and as such, deserving of being commemorated in freestone, and whether his memory, embalmed in the recollection of every boarding-school girl who has read his effusions, shall be finally thought worthy of associating w T ith that of all the heroes of the revolution ; his whole claim to the honour resting on the Contrat Social, the mere dream of a political enthusiast. On other points, what was there to say in his favour ? By his own confessions, he was a regular young polisson. When he came toman's estate, he wrote a rhapsody on education, that nobody ever thought of putting into practice, and 284 paris. then sent forth a novel, which, as Voltaire wittily remarked, was written to shew how to seduce a woman philosophically* Having reasoned on the passion of love in the most beautiful and heart- moving prose imaginable, he wound up his own love affairs by marrying his housekeeper, and sending his children, born in wedlock, to les enfans trouves* Honneur a Jean Jacques ! When you have gone the rounds of all les grands homrnes, duly labelled like the different bins of a wine cellar, your guide will favour you with a solo performed by a cane on the skirt of a great coat, which produces an echo, the symbol of the place, "all sound signifying nothing." When you come up into daylight in the body of the church, or whatever you please to call it, you look round in vain for anything to console you for the lost time spent " below stairs." They shewed us some tablets, with the names of all the persons who had * In a recent speech of Count Tascher, one of the members of Government, lie states that the mortality of the children in les enfans trouves is double that of children elsewhere; that their numbers in all France amount to a million, of those one tenth in Paris, and one fifth in some departments, are children born in wedlock, and abandoned by their parents. TAR1S. 285 been killed, wounded, and missing, on " the three glorious days," originally done in gold letters ; but four short years had already dimmed the golden glories of four-fifths of the numbers inscribed, and the immortal fame of the heroes had lasted no longer than the fragile nature of gold leaf in a damp Pantheon. The ceremonies respecting passports had all to be gone through again at Paris, and two visits required at the Prefecture, during which the ladies had to sit among all the mixture of persons, to have their portraits taken, to prove that none of them was the little Duchess. Alfieri used to call a passport a lettre patente d' esclavage ; it seems, at least, a curious document for a free country so called. The advantages of the system are very doubtful, but its annoyances are quite clear. How much of every one's time is lost in travelling by this idle ceremony ? Not a man can move about unless with his papers. Whole tribes of clerks are daily employed in inscribing names, and detailing long and short noses, and round chins. I wish they had a Joseph Hume to point out to them the 286 paris. waste of time, and the expenditure in quills, paper and ink, with the hire of the clerks.* Towards the end of October the winter season may be said to commence with the opening of the Italian Opera, but many families, in imitation of the English, remain in the country till after Christ- mas. All the other theatres are open during the year. In abandoning their old dramatic rules, the French have gone into the opposite extreme. They used to call Shakspeare a barbarian for skipping over a few years in one of his plays ; what would one of their critics of that time have said, had he heard of such a monstrosity as was nightly per- formed at one of the theatres on the Boulevard this autumn, and drew immense houses ? It was some- thing profane in its progress and origin, which went to figure out the adventures of the wandering Jew, condemned to eternal life for his disbelief. The first scene is the commencement of Christianity, the next in Rome during the reign of Augustus ; * It is rather extraordinary, that in the Chamber of Deputies, no member has raised his voice against this gross absurdity in time of peace, so utterly at variance with what we imagine of personal liberty. paths. 287 the Jew then appears in the reign of Louis the 14th, and finally in our own times. I have already- spoken of the regulation that excludes improper women from the lobbies and boxes of the theatres in Paris, but they have not the least repugnance to see the lives and manners of this class of females exhibited on the stage, and in the most glaring and indelicate manner. I need only instance the in- famous exhibition at Porte St. Martin of the Tour de Kesle, and at the classic Theatre Franfois, of Marion de Y Orme, a revived horror of Victor Hugo. One of the theatres that pleased me most, was the Salle Ventadour, called at that time Theatre Nautique, from several pieces being brought out in which use was made of real water on the stage. I saw there a Chinese ballet, with parasol and lanthorn dances, performed with a precision and ensemble, that may be looked for in vain anywhere but in Paris. It may seem odd that I should speak of religion so soon after the theatre, but in France they are conducted much on the same plan ; external show, pomp, and music, being the objects most sought for. When the revolution broke out, its violence 288 paris. was nowhere more pronounced than when directed against the ministers of religion. The wish of one of the amiable actors in that scene may be still remembered, "that he might see the last king strangled with the bowels of the last priest." This dislike of the priesthood continued a long time in force; and, perhaps, it was the greatest trial the popularity of Buonaparte ever suffered, when he decreed the re-establishment of a religion which he did not care for farther than might suit his own views, and sanctify his ambition. But this re- establishment was more in form than in fact ; the same distaste for the clergy continued, and when, subsequently, Charles the Tenth tried to cram the Jesuits down their throats, their disgust redoubled. It would be presumption to state what are the exact religious notions in France, or any other country, to be obtained only by diving into the bosom of every individual in the community ; but an approximation may be made. In France, re- ligion, such as it is, seems to be principally with the women ; the churches are nearly filled with them, and, to all appearance, their devotion is often sincere. There is in the Roman religion so much Paris. 289 that is pleasing and consolatory to females who actually put faith in it. It is grateful to them to imagine they have intercessors of their own sex, and to these feminine saints they address their orisons, leaving, for extreme cases, the prayers to the Vir- gin. Beyond this, I believe, they never venture. I was once in the Mediterranean, on board a spa- ronaro, with a considerable live cargo, consisting chiefly of females. Near Malta we were caught in a squall of wind and rain, which created some appa- rent, but no real, danger. At its first approach, the women all appealed each to their own patron, or pet saint, and Santa Barbara, Santa Paulina, and half a hundred more, were evoked ; but as the strength of the wind reached us, these were all thrown over- board, and an universal chorus raised of " Santa Maria, ora pro nobis." With respect to the men in France, it is not so easy to guess at their views about religion. I have ventured, however, with some I have been on terms of intimacy, to make inquiry about their own creed and that of others, and I drew the conclusion that, perhaps, the religious notions of five out of six are confined to Deism, mixed up with some obscure u 290 PARIS. ideas of fate and destiny. I never heard any one profess himself an atheist, or believer in materialism. Some apparent compliance with Romish forms may be observed in their burying grounds — Pere la Chaise for example ; but they are so curiously blended with flowers, wreaths, poetry, and portraits, as not to ap- pear in a striking view. I observed here that se- veral tombs had annexed to them a small apartment, which might serve as a place for prayer or other purposes, as they generally had a table and one or two chairs, and, perhaps, there might be united in some recess a breviary and bottle of burgundy. On leaving this fantastical place of sepulture, I observed two large buildings in the immediate neigh- bourhood; — they were recently built. I understood they were prisons, and both, at that time, full of persons confined for political offences. These peo- ple might parody Buonaparte's phrase " from the sublime to the ridiculous," by saying, " from the prison to the grave it was only a step." The state of France was, for some time, peculiar with respect to offences of this nature. They abounded in all directions, and it appeared so difficult to punish the offenders by the usual means, that the trials were PARIS. 291 taken out of the hands of juries, and submitted to the Chamber of Peers. Of the leaning of juries in favour of persons charged under this head, I shall take leave to quote a recent example. A law student, called Pierre Antoine Beraud, was tried at the Assizes in Paris on the 3d March, 1838, for having placarded in different parts of the city a paper, of which the following is a copy: — "Parisians, the moment has arrived to show your tyrants that you have the will and power to be free. Your countless friends have prepared everything for you, you have only to will, and it shall be. No more tyrants — no more despotism ! Liberty ! entire liberty ! Bestir yourselves, the moments are pre- cious and favourable ; — profit by them. Take your arms, cast balls, unite together, and give battle to this lump of shame and dirt called power ; at your sight it will be overturned. Your friends will not remain idle when you raise the standard of liberty. They will show you the way to victory, and will either conquer or die. To arms then, and wait the fi rst signal ; — liberty awaits you. Vive la republique, mort aux tyrans." We show in England considerable liberality in u 2 292 paris. cases of political opinions expressed, but I will ap- peal to any one if such a thing had been proved against a person here, would it not be said to smell very strong of treason ? The opinion of the French court was, this man was " guilty of adhering to ano- ther form of government," Sentence — one year in prison, fine 300 francs (£12.)* The French in the olden time, when they lived in all the quietude of despotism, used to mock the situation of monarch of this country, disturbed as he was by constant agitation, and had a saying, " le roi (P Angleterre est le roi d* enfer" This phrase, with France in place of England, might have ap« plied with perfect truth to Louis Philippe; never had King a more arduous task than he has had to bring his giddy subjects into any tolerable repose and order. By a mixture of firmness and intrepidity, with proper feeling of mercy and pity, he has nearly succeeded in his objects ; the amnesty has done wonders, while his free and easy manners have won * It is a curious part of the administration of criminal law in France, that in sentencing the poorest and most wretched criminal, they add to his other pains and penalties, either the costs of the suit, or a specific fine—; neither of which he can pay. paris. 293 him many opinions. If the French have not made progress in liberty commensurate with the time em- ployed, they fully understand the meaning of equali- ty t Some fastidious people sneer at the omnium gatherum balls of the Thuilleries, but they tell ex- tremely well for the popularity of the new dynasty; in fact, altogether, the French of the present day could not have had a governor better suited to their habits and ideas. Having given Louis Philippe credit as a King, I am very sorry to say, he is an uncommon bad tobac- conist ; there is not a smokable gigar to be had for love or money in all his dominions. His brother snuff-dealer, beyond the Pyrennees, used to charge high, but you got a good article for your money, It might be supposed sufficient for the ambition of a great potentate to be a dealer in crockery-ware, and tapestry, without being a retailer of what the Scotch call sneeshin. Such a profession or trade as a mon- archal tobacconist we have little notion of; the thing that comes nearest to it with us is the post- office, where the carriage of a letter costs nearly as much as that of a man, at least for a ten mile stage.* *The post office tax in England, has been run up to so absurd a 294 paris. From want of a system of apprenticeship, and me- chanical instruction, the hand labour of the French remains very inferior, although considerable im- provement has taken place since 1815, as well as in many things connected with the convenience and comfort of life. At that period, the dinner knives were composed of a rough common brown haft, and a blade with a point like a shoemaker's knife. I will venture to say, that there was not an instru- ment of that kind in Paris with which a man could have cut his throat. In all France there was not such a thing as a salt-spoon, and the salt itself was black and gritty ; wine glasses were scarcely ever seen, and the knives and forks were never changed* On a change tout cela ; — the knives on the English pattern can cut, there are salt-spoons, and wine glasses are put down at the best houses. The royal crockery ware still remains according to ancient pattern. Drinking out of the great cups with over- hanging lips, a man runs the chance of having half the contents poured into his waistcoat. But French nut-crackers are the finest effortsof human ingenuity. scale as to defeat its own object, millions of letters pass through every indirect channel free of postage. paris. 295 They are formed of a small circular ball of woo<\ hollow ; in the opening you place the nut, and by force of a wooden screw inserted in another part of the globe the operation is performed. I have already alluded to the non-existence of any right of primogeniture, and said that, in abrogating that system, which they thought was part of the old feudal law, they had done away with the prac- tice of leaving the estates to the eldest. Had they given some discretion to the parent how he or she might dispose of their property it would be well enough ; but in France it is made imperative to divide all, or nearly all, the property equally among the children. Such a law may be well enough in America, or any new settled country, where there is plenty of elbow-room, and land to settle on, but in my apprehension, is badly calculated for the old countries of Europe, that are, in comparison to their extent, densely peopled. The constant subdivi- sion of land must have an injurious effect on agri- culture, considered as a great manufacture, which requires not only industry and intelligence, but a certain portion of capital. In this point of view things will retrograde, and people come back to pri- 296 paris. mitive usages ; the plough and harrow will give way to the spade and hoe, and in place of barns and granaries, the produce of the soil will be concealed in domestic cupboards, or stuffed in sacks under the beds. I have already hinted at the primitive mode of cultivation in the vicinity of Paris, and other large towns., and a recent speculation of a French merchant of buying up asses in England, gives a sort of confirmation of this retrograde progress in agriculture. In point of fact, the French are only now taking a fair start in the course, after a long career in political experiments. They are still, however, in the trammels of ancient prejudices and customs, in every thing that regards commerce, agriculture, and political economy in general, in which they have not yet learned how to walk alone. At this moment that I write, there is a complete division of opinion relative to the means of internal communication, whether Government shall have the whole or partial direction of the rail-roads and canals, or whether they shall be left to the enter- prise of associated companies. I have already alluded to the extraordinary delays in every thing undertaken by the Government, and experience FAIITS. 297 does not furnish us with any security that the affair will be better managed by societies. There have been also, recently, very great dis- putes about the conversion of the rents, and infinite discussion has taken place on that subject, by which it appears, that the French Government, different from all other governments and individuals, is not at liberty to pay its debts, because it never made any bargain to that effect. Another topic about which the Chambers and people are much divided is the new colony of Al- giers, which seems to be upheld more as a point of national honour, than from any actual or prospective benefit expected from it. The commerce that it will produce must be necessarily small in amount, owing to the simple mode of living of the natives, and the little knowledge they have of what we call luxuries. If, on the other hand, agriculture, and the produce of the soil are looked to, sundry diffi- culties at once arise. The French small proprietors are, perhaps, the last class of persons in the world to take delight in emigration; they would be always sighing for their native country. They would have 298 ' paris. to contend against a burning climate, the uncertainty with respect to the enmity of the Arab tribes, and want of means of transport to markets. Supposing even an emigration of industrious agriculturists to take place, would not the laws and customs of the mother country follow them ? The land in North Africa, capable of furnishing produce, is small in comparison to the extent of the country. If the new settlers purchased the land, and were obliged to sub- divide it amongst their children, by the usage I have so often referred to, what benefit would result to the mother country under this system ? It might, in- deed, furnish the means of existence to a population living from hand to mouth, but there could not possibly be a surplus after the third generation. All Europe is much indebted to France for occu- pying a nest of pirates that were the terror of the Mediterranean. But this satisfaction will be, pro- bably, all the benefit she can derive from her con- quest of a country without seaports, and which she must support at immense expence. What would our friend Joseph Hume think of a colony that re- quired 48,000 men for its defence? — three times paris. 299 the amount of the force we have in Ireland, about which so many doleful complaints have been made. The whole of our colonies together do not require so many men. CHAP. X. NOTABLE MEN OF THE REVOLUTION HOW TO PUMP OUT A MOB — ABUSE OF BUONAPARTE THE WORD COMFORT BITUMEN NATIONAL GUARD MILITARY QUALITIES MUSIC ATTEMPTS ON THE KING'S LIFE TALLEYRAND GAMBLING. Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou ! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now — That thou art nothing save the jest of fame. Byron. " Tutti gli Corsi sono ladri // No, non sono tutti ? Almeno buona parte " A neat snug study on a winter's night, A book, a friend, single lady, or a glass Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite, Are things which make an English evening pass ; Tho', certes, by no means so grand a sight, As in a theatre lit up by gas. Byron. During the insurrection in Spain against the French invaders, and when the country might be said to be without any government, it was a matter of surprise that, in this unsettled state, no man came PARIS. 301 forward to take the lead, and direct the efforts of the people ; or that from this political chaos there arose not one single person of talents or abilities. The Spaniards were then disadvantageous^ com- pared with the French, and the two (so called) revolutions contrasted in favour of the latter, from whence, it was said, had arisen so many men of talents and abilities. This last assertion has passed current, but I must own myself a sceptic to its truth, and ask, who are the men of mark and abilities that have sprung from the French Revo- lution? The most remarkable persons for talents that appeared, were Mirabeau, Talleyrand, and Buonaparte. It might be expected that I should include La Fayette in this category. He was undoubtedly a strenuous and consistent republican, and a good officer, but by no means remarkable for talents or abilities ; besides, he was rather one of the causes of the revolution, than an example of its effects. Still, as he was a personage of some note during all the phases of that event, his name may stand in the list. Is it not then a remarkable circumstance, that of the four persons whose names have been brought 302 PARIS. most into notice, three of them should have been of aristocratic families? I may be accused of having too strictly limited the list of persons of celebrity, in not having taken notice of the scien- tific persons who flourished during the period, and the many generals who owed their fame to the events springing out of the Revolution. The men of science, would, probably have existed under any form of government ; and although many generals arose of great abilities and talents, they did not exceed in those points their own countrymen and forerunners. The Condes, the Turennes, the Ven- domes, and the Vaubans, of former times, were quite equal to the Soults, the Suchets, the Berna- dottes, and Haxos, of those days. The only one, then, that sprung from the Revolution, and might be called its child, was Buonaparte; who, like many other wayward children, behaved very ill to his mama. He, however, in his own person, was equivalent to a host of men of talents ; whether for the weal or woe of the world, posterity will be the best judge. I have already remarked on the equivocal re- ception the ex-Emperor met with on his arrival in PARIS. 303 Paris from Elba, and the subsequent indifference relative to his fate after the occupation of the metropolis; but the events of 1830 seemed at once to have revived his memory, which became quite a rage soon after the accession of Louis Philippe. Garlands were hung on the iron rails round the column in the Place Vendome, hymns sung in his praise, and a continual mob assembled round this monument of his victories. On one occasion they became so uproarious that it drew the attention of the officer on duty, and he took a very good method to disperse the assemblage, by pumping on them from a fire-engine. At the inauguration of the statue that now surmounts the pillar there was an immense multitude, and the King (to use the French phrase) assisted at the ceremony ; as he was near the foot of the column, one of the mob called out, " 11 est Men au dessous de lui" This might be construed more ways than one, particularly when it is recollected the similarity of sound between dessus and dessous. All the actions of their idol were brought prominently forward ; lithographs of the battles, portraits, profiles, and the models of himself and redingote were in profusion every 304 PARIS. where. Then, also, the question was agitated of bringing his remains from beyond the seas, to be buried at the foot of the pillar. Perhaps, even for their own view of the case, they are better where they are ; St. Helena may remain amidst the waste of waters, after the column has fallen into dust. Of all his family, Buonaparte had the least ten- dency to, or fancy for, republicanism. His brothers conformed to it with much more willingness, and Lucien was zealous in his adhesion. From the assistance he gave his brother on the critical occasion of dissolving the Government of the Directory, and his conduct on one or two other occasions, Lucien would have enjoyed a certain degree of fame, had he not d d himself by the publication of his Memoirs, the most striking example, perhaps, that ever existed of besotted egotism. The only inter- est they would have derived, would have been from their connexion with Napoleon, about whom scarce a word is said, but in place, the readers of the present time are favoured with eight pages filled with a speech of Lucien on the subject of a tax on salt, pronounced forty years ago. Napoleon cared no more for the revolution, than as affording the means PARIS. 305 to gratify his own ambition. There can scarcely be a doubt that he pictured to himself his future career even before he commanded the army of Italy. That he despised the means by which he rose will, I think, also appear clear enough, as well as his sentiments towards the canaille, by the pelting he gave the Sections with grape shot, delivered con amove, as those gentry attempted to advance on the Thuilleries. The character of Buonaparte has undergone so much discussion, that it would be impertinent to dilate more on the subject. It will be sufficient to say, that there never was a man so well abused, in this country and elsewhere. The Italian epigram I have placed at the head of this chapter is a slight sample of what was flung at his head. A newspa- per of the day, (the Anti-Gallican) existed entirely on this theme. To believe it and some other of its prototypes, there was no crime of which he was not capable. This ultra abuse defeated its own purpose. It must be left to posterity to draw a just estimate of his character. To a certain extent he was the creature of circumstances, and thought him- x 306 PARIS, self justified by their pressure in adopting the indi- rect means by which be secured his ends. Some of the most enthusiastic of the admirers of the ex-Emperor may feel offended that he has not in these pages been designated by that title. The writer certainly thinks he deserves it better than many who have preceded him in the history of the world; but it will be sufficient reason to say, that he never was acknowledged by the Government of this country in any treaty, and fur- ther, that he himself twice abdicated the empire. A question might arise, Suppose that Oliver Crom- well had taken the title of emperor or king, would he have been acknowledged as such in our day ? I think not, particularly if he had gone through the forms of two abdications. After all, the name of Buonaparte will be quite as sure a passport to pos- terity. It would have been, perhaps, better for his ultimate fame if he had adhered to it. The French Revolution overturned governments, capsized dynasties, overset religion, and altered the calendar, but in all this hurly burly no change took place at home. Little improvement goes on in camps, and France for many years was nothing PARIS. 307 else. If we read the Memoirs and Letters of Horace Walpole, and other writers of his time, and compare them with the actual state of things in 1815, we will find that, with the exception of people dining in Paris at six in place of two, and minus les petits soupers, there is not any difference between the peace after the seven years' war and that of Paris in 1815, in all that regards the customs, usual modes of living, and the different ways of passing the time. The same houses, the same carriages, diligences, horses, postillions, and roads ; nor had internal communication by other means taken a step in advance. The French armies over-ran Europe with a rapidity nearly equal to that with which a traveller could have traversed their country in a carriage, always taking it for granted that the tra- vellers kept the high road ; had they attempted any movements across the country, it could have been only an attempt, and all this in face of the often repeated assertions touching the magnificence and grandeur of the roads constructed by Napoleon. Even now (1838) there is no improvement. In a recent discussion in the Chamber of Deputies, one of the Ministers stated that the great high x 2 308 PARIS. road between Chalons and St. Meneliould was nearly impassable, and to confirm it, another mem- ber stated, that if a carriage was upset on this route there would be no danger of breaking the window blinds, the mud was so soft and fluid. It was also acknowledged at the same time that the road from Bordeaux oo Bayonne, across the great Landes, had been impassable these last fourteen years. Such being the deplorable state of the roads, it is little wonder that the French should seize with avidity all the railroad projects offered to them, and, with their naturally sanguine feelings, imagine their country all intersected with works of this kind, of which they see an epitome in the newly-made rail- way to St. Germain and Versailles. But they are, as I have said, at once at issue with the Govern- ment as to the mode of effecting their object. In this respect the ruling powers in France are very different from our own. With us, Government will have nothing to do with anything unless it pays them, or in the official phrase yields revenue ; while the Government of our neighbours wish to interfere every where. In this affair, however, of the rail- roads, there is a slight approximation, as the PARIS. 309 Government chose for its own share the most pro- fitable line, that from Paris to Brussels, with a branch to Calais, — probably the only one that will ever pay. They have been defeated in their object, but had they succeeded, it would have been very hazardous to have formed any conjecture with regard to the time it would have been completed in. I have shewn that thirty years were required to build a stone arch, within a mile of Paris; it may from thence be possibly calculated how long it would take to run a railway for 200 miles. The French are only yet talking about things that have been in practice these forty years in England and America. At present they have their heads full of all sorts of projects, among which, that of making roads of bitumen and working their coal-mines, are most prominent. The latter has been forced upon them by the gradual diminution of wood for fuel' by dividing the forest lands among families in the way I have already alluded to ; added to this, the increased consumption of fuel in factories, and steam vessels. No question but many of these projects are, as with us, mere bubbles, and will cause much greater injury. Many of the small holders of Go- 310 PARIS. vernment securities, fearing their conversion, and consequent diminution of income, will sell out from the funds and take shares of these enter prizes. I may here mention, that during the discussion of the project for the conversion of rents, it was pro- posed to exempt from the change those whose funds did not exceed 500 francs. This proposal would have opened the door to all manner of fraud, unless the stock had been rendered unalienable. There is, however, in France, a general desire to cultivate useful and practical knowledge, and to add to the convenience of social life. They have adopted our English word of comfort, and I hope will act on it as a theme. There is certainly consi- derable room for improvement, if I may appeal to English people who have passed the last two win- ters in France, particularly those in country towns, where they have had to walk over tiled, uncarpeted floors, making vain attempts with paper patches to keep the windows air tight, and to pass the best por- tion of their time in heaping wood on les chenets to keep up the " radical heat." It would be super- fluous to notice other minor comforts within doors, too familiar to be noticed here. I may only allude PARIS, 311 to the general want of carpets in every apartment, in fact, there is no such thing known in France ; they manufacture a few costly yellow articles of this kind at the Gobelins, but these may strictly be called exclusive carpets, and quite out of the reach of the body of the people. If an English family going to reside for a time in France, should fancy to take with them a carpet or two, worn nearly threadbare, they would have to pay as much duty as would be triple the value of the thing when it was new; it is, in fact, contraband. It is some- what curious to hear the French excuses for con- tinuing habitual discomforts. The convenience of the foot-paths in London being pointed out to a Frenchman, he said, " c' est assez Joli, mais pour moif aime la totalite de la rue." On comparison of the warmth of carpeted rooms with others of glazed oak, or tiles, one of our neighbours said, that the principal cause of consumption in England arose from the use of carpets ; that if you went into any carpeted room in sunshine, you would see number- less atoms floating in the sun beams; these were the fibres of carpeting, they were drawn in the lungs 312 PARIS. by inhalation, and were the cause of all our pulmo- nary miseries ! Look at the most magnificent salon in Paris, furnished with sofas, chaise longues, and ottomans, with splendid time-keepers, console tables, or-molu candelabras, and every luxury that can be reflected by enormous mirrors, enclosed in gilt mouldings. Try to open one of the windows, fastened by hooks attached to a long iron bar, with a turning handle ; you will create a greater uproar than was made at your entrance, by throwing open the porte Cochere. The lock and key belonging to this fine apartment, they would be ashamed of in the back woods of America. The salle a manga* seems to say to you, the shorter your stay here the better; for nothing can be imagined more coldand comfortless in appearance. It has very seldom a boarded floor, and nothing is to be seen but a stove with glazed tiles, a dozen rickety rush bottom chairs, and a long, dingy, clumsy table, which they are very glad to cover with an indif- ferent table-cloth that remains there all the eating and drinking time ; yet such is the affectation of fashion, that many families in England have followed this custom, have given up after dinner the use of PARIS. 313 their handsome and well polished mahogany table, and imitate our friends, by leaving the table cloth until the end of the feast. The best furnished bed-room in France is a bar- rack compared with that of a person of similar rank in life and circumstances with us ; but the beds are, certainly, more pleasant to sleep in than ours, pro- vided your legs are not long. There is, com- monly, a want of that thorough going cleanliness that leaves no corner unexplored, or anything remain that can be offensive. I need hardly appeal to the sense of smelling, which is so often offended with something sour. I would say, generally, that, with respect to our own ideas of the word, the French theatres are the most comfortable places. There you usually sit at your ease, are not disturbed with noise in the lobbies or near you, and can give undivided atten- tion to what is passing on the stage. I have already stated that they are places of refuge from the winter cold, it being much cheaper to sit in the pit, (par- ticularly in the minor theatres) than to remain at home and burn wood. They have lately laid down a pavement or road 314 PARIS. in the neighbourhood of les Champs Elysees, con- sisting of blocks laid on sand, and the interstices filled up with asphalte or bitumen. This has been found to answer very well, and a good road is such an entire novelty, that it has put all the Parisians in a fancy for this natural production. Twenty companies have been formed for working asphalte, and all the papers contain advertisements to that effect. It will be rather curious if the usage be- comes general, that we should be so long before taking advantage of a practice of such great anti- quity. Pliny mentions that the walls of Babylon were cemented with this fluid. It has always been the custom in the Balearic Islands to construct the houses first, and then pour in a bituminous fluid, called guiche, which in a few days becomes as hard as stone. If this bituminous fancy continues, it ought to be of benefit to the land owners in Trinidad, where there are lakes of some extent of this sub- stance. The railroads next struck the fancy of our Gallic neighbours, and they have entered into the projects with the greatest enthusiasm. Their heated fancies could not be satisfied with one line to commence PARIS. 315 with* they must have a grand reseau, to cover all the territory of France. It serves to show the mili- tary bias of the French, that one of the principal, and, indeed, the first, advantage of railways pointed out by the speakers on both sides, would be the ra- pidity with which armies could be dispatched to the frontier. This, however, is somewhat problematical. A hired emissary might, in the night, stop the march of troops by very simple means. It would appear that the powers of steam, applied to warfare, are rather limited ; — there can be no fighting steam ves- sels, unless they are made shot proof, and railways on the continent would be always liable to destruc- tion, either by spies in the country, or incursions of light troops. A pickaxe, or a few ounces of gun- powder, would impede all locomotion in a very short time. The French had better then set about putting their high roads into good order, and if this bituminous cement answers, they will have internal means of communication which they never possessed before. They are beginning to be aware of the value of putting one part of the coun- try in contact with another, and are " now looking up" their old canals to make them available. When 316 PARIS. they have done all this, they will turn to general commerce, and take more liberal views of that sub- ject. There are many men who understand the principles of reciprocity in trade, but the mass is still full of prejudices. They can neither believe that our abolition of the slave trade is effected on principles of philanthropy, or that we have not some secret object in reserve for our particular benefit. They are ultra on the idea of encouraging their manufactures coute qui coute ; — the whole of the projected railroads could be laid down with iron from England at one third of the expence, but no, they must bolster up the iron trade at home, although, from physical reasons, it is quite impossible it should be ever able to compete with ours. We have low- ered the duties on their wines, and the only thing they have done in return is, to admit into the north- ern ports British coal (that they could not do with- out.) A bottle of porter costs two francs in Paris, and a bottle of French brandy in England seven shillings; being, in both cases, five times the intrin- sic value of the things, and this is called protecting home manufactures. It protects humbug. However backward they are in all commercial PARIS. 317 knowledge, they have not failed to cultivate what is more genial to them — the art of war. No nation in the world can so quickly take arms, or so soon bring them into service. The modified conscription puts it always in their power to call forth the num- bers required, and the French have a singular apti- tude in becoming soldiers ; they are fit to join their ranks before the troops of any other nation. At present they have an army ready for the field of nearly half a million of men ; but a large proportion of these cost nothing to the country, they are on furlough without pay. I have previously suggested the value of this ,plan every where. If it was not for the absurd jealousy in this country about stand- ing armies, we might have an available force of 80,000 men at home, and in the colonies, ready to join the ranks when called on, and in the mean time of no expence to the country. I need not say how valuable such a reserve would be in case of sudden war. Even in the recent affair of Canada, had the insurrection been more serious, how well it would have been to have had 10,000 men in hand to have called on when occasion required it. But all expe- rience on this head seems thrown away in this coun- 318 PARIS. try. The cry is, reduce your establishments in peace to save money ; but when a sudden emer- gency arrives, ten times the amount of the cheese- paring saving is expended at once, and the bounties of soldiers once raised can never be got down again. The French have, as I said, an army of 497,000 men, that could be brought into action in a fortnight, but of this number 200,000 men are lying by, and of no actual expence to the Government. An army of half a million on a territory of so small compara- tive extent! — "think of that, Master Brooke." Then there is a million of national guards, very good for certain purposes, but not, in any respect, deserving the praises that have been bestowed on them. They are so far superior to our militia as to economy, but inferior on every other point. They had their origin at the commencement of the revo- lution, and were indebted to it for their organization and discipline. They were extremely useful at the time, as, amidst the chaos, they offered the only point of safety or refuge, — at least so far that, with- out the existence of this body, anarchy would have been complete. Since that eventful period their PAK1S. 319 value has considerably diminished, like other things, from want of use. Charles the Tenth gave a fictitious value to the national guard by putting it down ; something equi- valent to making a man's fortune by prosecuting him for a political libel. As if in revenge for the humiliation, this voluntary force has been increased since the Days of July to double the amount it was before, without any other reason for so doing. For, in point of fact, what is the influence of the national guard, or what has it done ? Its opinion was never asked about the expulsion of Buonaparte, or his return from exile ; the restoration of the Bourbons, or the events of 1830. They were passive specta- tors of all these events. Or what have these defen- seurs de la patrie, done against foreign invaders. Were there not enough of them in numbers to have defended Paris for only a few days in 181 4, to have given time to their Emperor to have found out the error of his calculation of operating on the rear of the allies, and come to the relief of Paris ? Did they do anything ? When Louis the 18th (who certainly was not unpopular) found himself forced to quit his newly-acquired kingdom, by the return 320 PARIS. of Buonaparte, did the national guard shew any dis- position to prevent the return of military despotism? Finally, did they move a finger when irritated Europe marched a second time on the capital ? Did they even take a part when the great civil question respecting the ordonnances of Charles the 10th was agitated ? No doubt many members of the national guard took part in the affair of the barricades, but the corps itself was not to be seen, either in the first instance, to assist the Government in putting down the printers' devils, nor did they take an open and manly part in opposition. I have endeavoured to shew that the national guard has never fulfilled what has been professed, and indeed its institution could have only arisen in a nation fond of military show, and among a set of very idle shop keepers. Should the spirit of indus- try that seems to have begun to take root in France become more fully developed, the habits of the people will change; a man will think it better worth his while to attend to his shop or counting house, than to mount guard at the Thuilleries, and will think a pen behind his ear a better appendage than a sabre banging among his legs. Then the PARIS. 321 national guard will be consigned " to the tomb of the Capulets." I give this armed force, however, considerable credit for a new invention for keeping the peace. When the ministers of Charles Dix were to be moved from the Luxembourg after trial, apprehen- sions were entertained that there would be an e?neute, and that the prisoners might be maltreated, or possibly put to death by the mob. To prevent this, a large force of the national guard was ordered to the point in question. They took the most effectual means possible of preventing a row in the street, by marching into it in column, so well closed up, that there was not room for rioter or any body else. I beg leave to recommend this plan to the authorities of Manchester, and other places obnoxious to such periodical visitations, and at the same time, beg them not to forget the other French remedy I have already alluded to, the fire-engine ; it is a very amusing mode of driving away the "many-headed monster,"' much to be preferred to yeomanry sabres. The garrison of Paris, at the present time, pre- sents a great contrast with the period of Charles the Tenth's reign, when it consisted of cuirassiers, light Y 322 paris. cavalry of the guard, and infantry of the same de- nomination, including the two battalions of Swiss in scarlet. At present the garrison consists of regi- ments of the line, neither remarkable for dress or appearance, and this eternal national guard, which, with all their practice, can never get the better of their volunteer look, although they strive hard. Judging from recollection during the war, I think the present race of men of the regular regiments rather inferior in size, few of them being above five feet five, and many below that standard. They are clothed in the plainest manner possible, nothing but the cut of the coat and the buttons that have any- thing military about them. They have recently discovered that garence (madder), which grows in profusion in the south of France, is the cheapest dye stuff; they have, therefore, used it for panta- loons, which are now red, and give something of a singular look to the infantry soldiers. When first I saw them, it put me in mind of the red boots they sometimes give jackdaws and monkeys* They tried the same colour, for a short time, for the jackets of the light cavalry, which was afterwards given up. One great advantage of the conscription is, that paris. 323 the men are appointed to the different branches of the service according to their capacities, and not from their own wishes or caprices. The tallest men are mostly chosen for the heavy cavalry, the stoutest for the artillery, and the remainder generally to the infantry. They are also divided ; — the very short- est men, that we would not enlist, are formed into corps of voltigeurs, which acting almost always as skirmishers, in open order, thelowness of their sta- ture is rather an advantage than otherwise. They possess, generally, three good qualities for soldiers, gaiety of heart, lightness of foot, and they can all cook. The French cavalry is very good and ser- viceable. Their artillery was superior to ours at the commencement of the Peninsular war, but a little practice soon made our people take the lead, in pre- cision of practice, length of range, and rapidity of movement. The first they owed, in a great mea- sure, to the superiority of our ammunition, and the latter to better horses and harness. They have bor- rowed several things from us in this branch of the service, but we have still reserved one or two secrets, which, I hope, will always remain so. I have already spoken of the superiority of their 324 PARTS. military music, whether from better modes of study, or greater aptitude in the learners, seems uncertain. They frequently do what I never saw attempted with us, combine three or four bands to produce a fuller effect. I would say, that in none of the fine arts have the French made such progress as in music. Before the peace there were no composers of emi- nence, and constant recourse was had to Lulli, Gluck, Gretry, and Pacini. The sparkling and lively music of Rossini was entirely to the French taste, and most probably led the way to the modern school of music, aided by excellent means of instruction. Mehul took the lead, and was soon followed by Au- ber, Boieldieu, Herold, Halevy, and Mayerbeer. The latter, though a German, has identified himself so much with the French school, that he may take his place in the list. Many first-rate artistes have been produced from the conservatoire^ and their style has been generally improved by the study of German and Italian composers. In order to generalize this study, use has been made of a plan invented by Mr. Wilhem, of extending the mode of mutual instruc- tion to the science of music, by mechanical means and drawings, that excite the attention of the pupils paris. 825 and the means have been provided by the municipal administration to carry this plan into effect, both in the primary schools, and amongst workmen and ar- tificers. Ten thousand children have, for the last three years, thus received what may be called a pre- paratory musical education, by joining in hymns, and other pieces of easy execution. The special study of music employs in the schools more than 2500 children, and 600 workmen, who are fre- quently brought together for practice. They sing without accompaniments, and have already made great progress in this foundation of national music, which they hope will, in time, make the knowledge of this pleasing art as familiar as it is in Germany and Italy. The French have been imitating us lately in steam-vessels, and railroads, horse-races, steeple- chases, &c, might we not take a leaf out of their book, and endeavour to inoculate our population with a taste for music, so pleasing a resource in an idle hour, in place of diving into houses that are licensed " to be drunk on the premises ?" I recom- mend this musical education as a fit resource to the tee-totallers. Certain I am, it would be a great 326 paris. advantage to introduce the practice among the children in the army. I recollect, some years since, seeing in the Russian military bands, three boys and three men, who sung music in parts; certainly a more pleasing noise than the braying of trumpets at a mess-dinner. Musical education has made very rapid progress amongst the higher classes in England within these last twenty years; it is a science that, like every other in this country, patronage and reward are sure to foster. Some years ago, it was declared a sort of impossible thing for an Englishman to compose an opera. We have seen lately several instance of brilliant success in that way, and even more than one Italian opera by amateurs and professional men. Success has also attended the formation of a musical academy. Why should its advantages not be extended, so as to make it a part of elementary education in all the schools supported by public funds, and subscrip- tions ? It would be an agreeable variety, or even a recreation to the pupils ; would furnish them with a pleasing and innocent mode of passing the time, and give them a lasting resource both in the hours of labour and relaxation. Amongst other things, it Paris. 327 would add exceedingly to the effect of our music in churches, which it would be quite as creditable for us to have performed correctly and well, as in the inharmonious and slovenly way we occasionally hear it. I have avoided all discussions on political sub- jects that are so much mixed up with the daily news circulated in society. It would be no easy matter, even at the present day, to give anything like a correct state of parties in France ; the mass of the people, however, look forward to some repose after the many storms that have passed over them. Many of our philanthropists imagine that it is cruel to prolong the state of subjection of the blacks for a period of eight years, in their progress to per- fect freedom. Let them look at this, one of the most cultivated nations of Europe, that has been serving these last forty-five years an apprenticeship to freedom, and are not yet masters of the trade. Of their still unsettled state, it is only requisite to point out the many insane attempts made on the life of the King by the ultra-republicans. These gentry are of the old leaven, and think the end sanctifies the means ; by their doctrine, assassina- 328 paris. tion takes its place among the highest virtues. Time, and the growing good sense of the people, will at last put down all these absurd reveries. Since the foregoing pages were written, the last of the men of great note, Talleyrand, has been removed from the world, and few persons that ever lived have left behind them a name more remarkable. There is a poetical apothegm, which has passed into a proverb, — " Coming events cast their shadows before them." It was the peculiar talent of Tal- leyrand to catch a view of these before the rest of the world, and he might have been, with great reason, called a political prophet. He not only foresaw what was likely to happen, but had the tact to profit by the events when they took place. It has been somewhat exaggerated to say that he had the talent to steer clear of all the changes of the Re- volution. He certainly cleveily adapted himself to the successive changes that took place latterly, but there was a period w T hen all his abilities would not have saved him had he remained in France. He very wisely took French leave of absence for a con- siderable period, and to help him to pass the time, married another man's wife, about whom so many paris. 329 ridiculous stories have been told. Notwithstanding his various connexions with republicans, and their forms of government, there was not a higher aristo- crat. in Europe than the Prince of Benevento, of which nearly his last words were a strong proof. When the King visited him in his last illness, he said it was the greatest honour his house had ever received. In speaking of the gambling houses in Paris, in the early pages of this work, I had said that they were not the unmixed evil that had been generally supposed. But it will not, I trust, be thought that I set myself up as their defender. They were, un- questionably, the cause of vast misery and evil, and many of the unfortunates who were brought to the Morgue every day owed their fate to this cause* When I was in Paris in 1827, I heard of the career of a young Irishman in this way. He had been attended by a very uncommon run of luck, played boldly, and in three days had won £27,000. He gave a gay supper party to some friends, the cham* pagne flew round in abundance, and all was gaiety. At the end of the repast this youth said he w r ould just return to the table to make out £30,000, and z 330 PARIS. that then lie would abjure play for ever. The latter part of his intended vow was fulfilled to the letter, as his body was brought the next day to the Morgue. He had returned to the gaming house, lost his for- mer winnings, and all he was worth besides; he then rushed out, ran along the quay, and took his final leap from the Pont Neuf. Amongst other evils of the system was the employment of women as decoy birds, and partakers of the spoils of the victims. 1 need only refer to the Salon and Fras- cati, where everything was arranged in the most scientific manner, for the seduction of youth and inexperience. After an ineffectual attempt at defence by the Minister, the gaming houses were put an end to by a vote of the Chamber of Deputies. Their exist- ence ceased on the last day of 1837, which happen- ing to be a Sunday, may give some idea how that day is kept in Paris, as these houses were crowded to suffocation in their last moments. Some attempts have been made to get up low gambling resorts, similar to those that are now the disgrace of London, but they did not succeed. The police in Paris are not so delicate about entering a house on information PARIS. 331 as with us ; they have pursued the harpies in their dens without intermission. It may now be said, that where gambling flourished the most, fostered and supported by the Government, it can now scarce show its head ; that, consequently, there is less of public gambling in Paris at this moment than in any other capital of Europe. The activity of the peo- pled minds will now be turned to more useful and less dangerous channels ; but, perhaps, those that are the most steady and laborious in their pursuit, will give way to what are more apparently brilliant and speculative. I should say that to no class of people will this abolition of gaming be of more use than to young travelling Englishmen, not forgetting their parents and guardians. Many youths set out to make the grand tour, that never got further than the Boulevards or Palais Royal, except, perhaps, to St. Pelagie. H. E. Carrington, Printer, Chronicle Office, St. James Street, Bath. 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