£ VISIT TO PARIS, IN JUNE 1814. BY HENRY WANSEY, SEN. ESQ. F. A, S. PRINTED BT RICHARD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMEs's-STREEiy EATHj AND SOLD BY JOHN ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 1814. 73! [ "i ] INTRODUCTION. A French Officer made this observation to •^ ■*• me in the Hall of the Thuilleries, when conversing on the late changes in France. " If " these events," said he, " do not convince " the people of France of a God, nothing will." I have thought again upon this, and upon the wonderful events that have taken place ; and in conformity to that idea, arranged a few facts as follow : ]. When the Duke of Brunswick marched through Lorraine and Champaigne into the very heart of France, with a powerful army of 100,000 men, the French had neither armies nor generals to oppose them ; and yet in less than three months, his army retreated like a beaten host, without any competent cause* r iv ] 2. When the Duke published his ill-advised manifesto respecting the safety of the French King, threatening to burn Paris, and decimate its inhabitants ; instead of its intimidating them, as he expected, it produced a re-action, dreadful in its outset, and terrible in all its future progress. What signifies, said one un- lucky voice, our marching against our foreign enemies, and leaving so many traitors behind us in Paris. Then began the dreadful Septem- brizing work, and Paris became a slaughter- house. 3. Notwithstanding the French were not soldiers, they gained the battle of Jemappe ; although they were destroyed by thousands, and fousfht under a General who was not heartv in the cause, but betrayed them, and ran off within two months afterwards. 4. All the nations of Europe were at this time leagued together to crush their infant republic, and the Sovereigns had made so sure of conquering France, that at the celebrated treaty of Pilnitz, (or of Pavia, as it has been called since,) they proceeded to plan a division of the French territories amongst themselves.* • The Ele&or Palatine was to have all Belgium added to his /' territories, which state was in future to be called Austrasia. [ v ] 5, The French fearless of their efforts, were at this time cutting off the heads of their own Generals, Custine, Hoche, and Houchard ; and cashiering others, as Fayette and Dumourier ; because they .did not effecl impossibilities against the enemy ; and yet, though terrible was the responsibility of the office, they were never in want of Generals to command them. 6. While their troops were undisciplined, and the greater part of them mere rabble, they made themselves masters of the strongest fortresses on the borders of Germany, Bische, Ehrenbreitstein, &c. and they beat that con- summate General Wurmser out of his very trenches, on the heights of Hagenau and Wrotte, although he was all the while slaugh- tering them like sheep, in six or seven re- peated attacks. The Archduke' Charles and his Aunt were to have the Dutchy of Lorraine. The Emperor of Germany was to take Alsace, and the King Sardinia, le Bresse, le Bugey, and the province of Dauphiny. The King of Spain was to have Rousillon and Beam, on the north side of the Pyrennees, Corsica, and the French part of St. Domingo. All these sovereigns, it so happened afterwards, instead of obtaining these fine dominions, actually lost their own. — See Ne6 ] pery, Faith, Chanty, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice ; and these are called the cardinal virtues. We visited another Church, built in the same style, and by some considered as superior in point of architecture, viz. St. Owen's, which I recom- mend to the notice of the English traveller; as well as the Protestant Church of St. Eloui; and the adjoining Museum and Picture Gallery, being a kind of Institute, where we noticed some beau- tiful paintings by Raphael, Vernet, Guido, Van- dyke, Salvator Rosa, and Poussin ; also fine busts of Racine, Fontenelle, and other celebrated French writers, poets, and philosophers. We next walked through a very fine boulevard on the other side of the city, where several manufactories of linen, cloth, &c. are situated, and then ascended Mount Catharine. This is the highest land in the neighbourhood, and from it we not only saw almost the whole of the city and boulevardes, but also a great extent of country, which in general is very fiat, but in a high state of cultivation. Just below this lofty hill, and close to the river, are still seen the remains of the castle built by our Henry V. when he took this city in 1418. [ 17 ] King Henry, intending to make this city his residence, began first the ere&ion of many strong circular towers, with connecting walls, and a rampart, to guard his palace within it, and like- wise to serve the purpose of a citadel to command the town. The situation was a very judicious one; at the south-west corner of the city, close to the river, with which it communicated. The great tower still remains, and forms part of the Lieute- nant-Governor's apartments, though built nearly 400 years ago. It has undergone many alterations. Little of its former ornaments remains, except the ceilings, which are of stone and curiously wrought, with eight projecting ribs in the Gothic taste, to answer the o&agonal shape of the rooms; which are 27 feet in diameter, and 19 feet in height. Beneath the tower is a vault or dungeon, where the state prisoners were formerly confined. Many of our kings and princes resided in this palace, and held their courts. John Duke of Bedford, uncle to Henry Vlth, and regent of France, died here, and was buried in the cathe- dral, where a monument is ere6led to his memory. The walls of the tower are uncommonly thick; I measured them for more than sixteen feet, c f 1* 3 withm wfoich is carried up a circular stair-case, seven feet diameter, lighted by windows three feet by two within Side, but gradually diminish- ing outwardly. This tower was formerly known by the nick-name of ma/ sy/rotter, which signifies danger to those who dare to meddle with it. The fosse and the terrace next to the river are converted into a pleasant walk, by being judi- ciously planted with trees. The area within the castle appears to be nearly three acres. The city itself has many handsome buildings ; the archbishop's palace, the courts of Parliament, &c. The river, though the tide flows even be- yond the city, will not bring up ships of more than two hundred tons burden. The number of inhabitants are computed to be little short of 80,000. We could have entertained ourselves for several days in this large and populous town. It is en- circled by three very fine boulevards, which are reckoned even superior to those round Paris j and there are a variety of very pleasant walks on the other side of the river, over which you pass by a bridge of boats. The seasons here arc much forwarder than in England. We had plenty of green peas this dav at dinner; also cherries and strawberries, r '9 i which are, I suppose, full a fortnight earlier than with you. Our French banker, whom we left at the post- house at Tostes, called on us, and proposed join- ing with us to go on to Paris in a calash or cabriolette ; but we were surprized when they asked us 120 francs for a calash, and besides this the horsing of it would have cost us 150 more, equal to 13I. 10s. for three persons. This high demand arose from the scarcity of voitures> occa- sioned by the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia and their suite preparing to set off for London. We therefore gave up this plan ; and were fortunate enough to secure three places in a new stage lately set up at Deshayes's, in the Rue de Bee, for twenty-one francs each ; and we are to set off to morrow morning at five o'clock. Your's, fee H. W. c 2 f 20 ] LETTER V. No. i , Rue iTAmbois, Rue de Richlicu, Paris, June $th 9 1814. Dear Sister, T Tf 7E are at length set down in the famous * • city of Paris, in a very pleasant hotel. The carriage in which we travelled verycom- modiously from Rouen is of a very different description from the stages in England. It is called the velocifre ; and well it deserves that name, for we drove seventy-five miles in about twelve hours. There is no coach-box or roof passengers : a postilion mounts one of the wheel horses, and with his whip flogs on three others, which are all fastened abreast before him. The sound of the whip is for ever assaulting our ears. The postilions, notwithstanding, are very merciful to their horses ; they seldom strike them, for the crack of the whip keeps the horses on the alert, and they get on very fast. [ 21 ] The area of the carnage itself is large and roomy, taking seven inside passengers very com- modiously, one sitting sideways in a«kind of arm chair. On the outside three more passengers sat in front of the carriage in a sort of one horse chaise stuck up against it, and three more in the same manner behind, who ride backwards. Thus were thirteen passengers very well accom- modated. At the distance of two miles from Rouen, an immensely steep and long hill induced us to alight and walk, by which we obtained some fine views of the neighbouring country. We passed very few houses or villages till we arrived at Magny, where we breakfasted. As our repast was so different from an English one, itmay perhaps amuse you just to mention it for once. No tea, or toast, or hot rolls; but fried mackarel covered with oiled butter, a piece of hot roast veal, a large plate of eggs ; a pint of wine of a crimson colour, very palateable, but not strong ; cheese was called for by some of our English fellow- travellers, and they brought in some soft pyra- mids of curd that seemed to have been formed in coffee cups, and to have very little resemblance to what we understood by the word fromage. At the conclusion we were asked if we would [ 32 ] like to have any coffee ; this proposal pleased most of our Englishmen, and we had one cup each, very excellent : this breakfast cost us two francs each. The roads were very good, wide and strait all the way, though without turnpikes. The crops we chiefly noticed were rye in great quantities, barley, oats, and wheat ; of grasses, cinque-foin and lucerne. Turnips, peas, and beans, were also much cultivated, but we noticed very few potatoes j they are not yet come into the general use of this valuable root. The only towns of note that we passed through were Pontoise, (an ancient town with a ruined castle on the height*, and a narrow bridge of fourteen arches over the river Oise, from which it takes its name,) Francoville, and St. Denis. At Pointoise we first began to notice the vine- yards. As we approached Paris, every thing seemed to polish and improve ; but there was no great bustle of trade, or any thing to mark a com- mercial city. The long war which France has waged has destroyed almost every thing of this kind. I observe that the common people still wear wooden shoes. We entered Paris by the handsome gate of St. Denis : it is like a triumphal arch, richly or- namented with trophies of war ; was built by [ ss 3 Louis XIV. ; and is inscribed in large letters LVDOVICO MAGNO. The city, we per- ceived, had been surrounded with high wooden palisadoes on the approach of the Allies, to pre- serve it from being plundered by the straggling parties of the Cossacs. I am now tired with my Jong journey, and so will you I believe with this letter, which I write under strong symptoms of somnolency. Adieu. Your's, &c. H. W. C 24 ] LETTER VI. Rue cTJmboise, Rue de Richlieu, Sunday $th June. Dear Sister, A T our first breakfast in our lodgings we •^ "** attempted to get tea, but the people gave us to understand that a tea-kettle was an article of furniture they never made use of, nor had they any tea, but they could furnish us with good coffee. We persevered, however, and at last they brought us up some tea ready made, but it was such poor stuff that we determined to banish this aliment in future from our table. The first observations I make on Paris are, the narrowness and dirtiness of the streets, the height and irregularity of the houses, with a gutter running down the middle of each street j no paved elevated footway for passengers ; and though it is Sunday morning, most of the shops are open as on ocher days.* * An alteration for the better took place in this particular, foon after our arrival, in consequence of an order from the Go- vernment for the better observance of Sunday. [ 25 ] We walked over the Pontneuf, on which stands an equestrian statue of Henry IV. The original statue, of bronze, was destroyed during the Revolution. On the expe&ed return of Louis XVIII. they hastily set up the present one made of plaster, and which was completed in about forty-eight hours. This bridge com- mands a fine view of the Louvre, and the palace of the Thuilleries. From the centre of this bridge, which rests on an island, you descend to some excellent hot and cold baths. We went to the church of Notredame, a very venerable Gothic pile of building; The service was perform- ing ; and the church was very full, but chiefly of women. We met several English ladies and gentlemen there ; and we were very soon ad- dressed by a priest and lay sister to bestow our alms. The fine painted glass drew our attention, as did the circumstance of the church being hung with tapestry representingthe battles and triumphs of Louis XIV., as well as some scripture histories. The choir is very handsome, but like that at Rouen is all of Grecian architecture. At the back of the choir is the representation of a lamb lying on a book with seven seals ; a scrip* ture emblem that I do not remember to have seen f * ] in any church before. There are no monuments in this church. We went to a traiteur's in the Palais Royal for our dinner. You know, I suppose, that this # was once the residence of the Dukes of Orleans, It was given to Louis XIV. by his minister, Car- dinal de Richlieu, who afterwards made a present of it to the duke his brother. The people now have possession of it as a place of amusement and public resort, and a most delightful spot it is* Two persons can dine here on three or four different dishes, with a decent bottle of wine for about 3s. 6d. each ; a bottle of vin de Bourgogne you get for i6d. or a franc and half, and excel- lent Champagne for five francs or 4s. 2d. The Theatre Francais stands in one corner, so that you have not far to walk after dinner, and under shelter all the way. The pit is two francs, and the boxes from four to six. We went to see one of Moliere's plays. The theatre is not equal to either of the London ones ; it is not well lighted, and it seems to want paint- ing and ornamenting : one defeel of the stage is, that the same scene continues through the whole play. The performers in general are very perfect in their parts : the principal men actors are Talma and Dumas : Madame Duchesnois is [ 27 1 the best heroine. No women ever sit in the pit. The plays are generally over about half after ten. Soldiers are always placed at the outer doors, by which means great order is observed. Your's, &c. H.W. [ 88 ] LETTER VIL Dear Sister, June 6. WE went this morning to see the ruins of the Bastile, but we found it so completely destroyed that scarcely a wreck is left behind. In the place of it, a noble design was formed by the late Emperor, which is partly executed. As the Bastile had once been the misery and terror of the Parisians, so he now resolved to make its scite a source of comfort and pleasure. A circular platform of stone is erefled on four arches over a canal, formerly running through the fosse of the Bastile. On the top of this is to be placed a bronze figure of an elephant, fifty feet high. I saw a plaster model of it, of the intended size, in ashed just by. I measured thehind legs, and found them twenty feet round ; they are to be hollow, and the water is to pass from the canal through them into the body of the elephant, and from thence be spouted out of the trunk in two [ S9 ] streams, as a fountain, into a large circu- lar bason beneath the elephant, which is to be lined with fine white marble brought from Flan- ders, and which was then on the spot working j leaden pipes are to convey this water into every citizen's house ; — a great accommodation to a town where water is so scantily supplied. This large reservoir measures 303 feet round. One of the front legs of the elephant is to contain a circular staircase, leading to the top of the tower on its back ; we went down another cir- cular staircase, which leads to a grotto beneath, and from thence to the banks of the canal, under arches like those at the back of Sidney-Gardens at Bath. It afforded us a fine cool retreat from the heat of the meridian sun. This canal was to extend to a large building, about two hundred yards distant, called Le Grenier d'Abondauce ; which was intended as a granary, wherein wheat was to be laid up sufficient to supply Paris with bread for six years.* I walked over this building, part of which is roofing. It is supported on more than three hundred arches to bear the * This plan of laying up grain in warehouses for six years is more plausible than feasible. All agriculturists can inform us, that though wheat may be preserved in stacks or ricks for years, yet that the grain when once deprived of its hull or outer covering, soon becomes a prey to the weevil. This, at least, ia the case »n England. [ 30 ] great weight ; and it is two hundred feet long. Another part of the plan was to form a new street, half a mile long, from the palace of the Louvre to the fountain, and to continue another half mile beyond it, so that the elephant would form a central conspicuous elevated object. At the other end of it was to be a triumphal arch. The soldier who shewed and explained these things to us, observing our admiration and asto- nishment, exclaimed, u Ah ! Sir, the Emperor has done more noble things* in ten years for the advan- tage of Paris, than all our sovereigns for a century past; and had he reigned ten years longer, he would have made Paris the finest city in the world." • Many think these public works of Napoleon were rather in- tended for his own glory and consequence. It is probable that he thereby meant to arouse the people, and reconcile them to hie severe conscriptions of men and money to support him in his love of war. — The following account of the effect of a French conscrip- tion was giren by an eye-witness : The word conscription has a latitude of signification very favour- able to military despotism. Immense resources were comprehended in that word, for it might have been made to embrace the whole of the population of France; it might call for the whole body of conscripts of any past years that had not been called on before ; it may anticipate future years, and force into the ranks youths of any age, from 18 to 20, or men from aj to 30, and so on upwards. The law admits of no exception or modification, and reaches even those who had before been passed over as unfit for service in consequence of physical infirmity. They are compelled to pay a fincproportioned to the amount of the tares levied on them or their parents. No recruiting ever before presented so severe a t s« ] « If so,' I replied, * how came you so easity_ to part with him.' "Sir, he was betrayed." He was cau- tious of saying more, but he added, that the late Emperor was too fond of war, and they were worn out with the conscriptions, and the continued call for more men and more money. To this he might have added, his great backward* ness to make peace when it was offered him ; for from what I can gather, this tended as much as any thing to alienate the public mind from him. The dissatisfaction of his Marshals and Generals arose from his never consulting with them of late, working them very hard, and yet never appearing satisfied with what they had done : this naturally produced disaffection. service as this. No condition of life, or peculiar circumstance, gave any title to exemption. I have seen, (says my informant,) a conscript, the son of a blind mother, whom be supported by his labour, forced to march. I have known a hard-working mechanic robbed of three sons in three successive years, whom he had just trained up to his business to help his old age. To obtain an exemption under the fairest expec- tations the most powerful protection must be had, and the most in- defatigable exertions made. If even a mayor or prefect were to undertake to shield a victim, he would expose himself to inevitable ruin; for several of them have been branded with hot irons for it, exposed in the pillory, and sent to the galleys, although the, certificates they had granted attested the inability of the parties to serve. Terror was the chief engine in the business of the conscription, and such must be the reliance of every government which depends on war for its existence. [ 38 J We went from hence to the Temple, which is not far distant, to see the place where the unfor- tunate royal family had been so cruelly confined and ill-treated. This also has been destroyed ; and in the room of it are a market for ready-made clothes, and shops for drapery of all kinds ; and its being a central situation for trade, the ground yields a very considerable revenue. Being fully satisfied with our morning's walk, we returned and dined in the Palais Royal j and in the evening went to see another of Moliere's plays at the French Theatre. Adieu, Your's, &c. H. W. [ 33 ] LETTER VIII. Dear Sister, June 7. r I i HIS day we went to see the palace of the **" Louvre. It has a court in the center not quite so large as that of Somerset House, but I think it is more magnificent. The designs of the four inner fronts are very highly finished, and preserve their original clean appearance : indeed the public edifices have this advantage over those of London, that they are not discoloured with smoke. The three stories are Corinthian, and adorned with statues, bass and alto relievos, wreaths and trophies ; and the whole correspondent to the pure Corinthian order of architecture. The out- side front is the same as formerly, except that it is repaired and put into fine order. You see the letter N every where on the building, sur- rounded with a wreath of laurel, surmounted by an imperial crown. Napoleon bestowed vast sums of money on this palace, as well as em- C 3*.] ployed the most celebrated artists to render it the first in Europe. The front towards the Seine is very grand, and extends more than 1500 feet. Before it stands a handsome palisade, the tops of which are gilt, and make a magnificent appearance. On our applying for admission, we were refused by the soldiers on guard, it not being an open day. But when we informed them we were Englishmen, we had ready and immediate admission. Our first objects were the statues. We entered the grand hall, which is divided into several others. The first is that of illustrious men, where you buy a book for thirty sous, which describes the whole, and to which I must refer you for a more accurate account than I can possibly give you. I shall therefore only mention the principal objects that fixed our attention. We hastened to the sublimest of all the statues, the Pytkean or the Apollo of Belvedere. This is fine indeed, and riveted our attention the moment we saw it. At the same time that you admire its beauty, you are awed by its sublimity. The God seems to have just discharged his arrow at the serpent Python. In the countenance is expressed a kind of tri- umph at his success in delivering the country from such a monster. He leans against the [ 35 j stump of a laurel, a remnant of which now only remains attached to it. It has been often copied, and that at Lord Pembroke's, though accurately taken by Wilton, falls very short of it in sublimity of expression. This fine statue was dug up about 300 years ago, out of the ruins of the antientcity of Antium, about 12 leagues from Rome. Julius lid, at that time a cardinal, was the first pos- sessor of it, and he brought it to Rome. One good effect has certainly arisen from the power of the popes and cardinals of Rome. They have patronized the arts, and recovered many valuable works of the antients, which would otherwise have been lost to the world ; and this has greatly tended to refine and corre£t the modern taste. The Venm de Medicis has been sadly broken, and loses much of its beauty and interest in consequence of its being badly mended. The right leg, foot, and thigh are joined in five, and the left in three, places. The right arm has been broken from the shoulder, and the left arm and hand in three different places. The head has been separated from the shoulders. Several pieces of a whiter marble have been let in to various parts to supply lost pieces, and the body itself has been broken in two. d 2- I 36 ] On these accounts we preferred much to see the Venus of the Capitol, which stands in the Hall of the Rivers. She appears nearly in the same attitude as the former, and is represented as just rising out of the sea. The elegance, neatness, and chastity of this figure are very fine. Her robe lies on an urn by her side. This is likewise a work of the antients, and was dug up at Rome in the valley of the Quirinal, and placed by Pope Benedict XIV. in the Museum of the Capitol, from whence it takes its name. . Another beautiful Venus stands directly op- posite to it. \n this same hall is a fine recumbent figure of the river god Nile, with his sixteen children climbing about him. This is likewise a very antient statue, having been brought to Rome from Egypt by Vespasian, just after the destruc- tion of Jerusalem, and placed by him in the Temple of Peace. After this, one of the popes removed it into the Vatican, from whence it was transferred to Paris. There is a very good copy of this placed by Louis the IVth in the gardens of the Thuilleries ; and also of the Tibur, the original of which was also at the sapae time bx ought hither by order of Napoleon. [ 57 ] The Hall of Diana has a fine antient statue of that goddess placed in the centre ; and it also contains many very fine statues of Antinous, Apollo, &c. Several beautiful statues are in this collection, that were dug up from the ruins of Adrian's villa, which of course must be very excellent. I shall tire you with description ; but I must not omit to mention the bead of Jupiter, twice as large as life, at the entrance into the Hall of Apollo, which is very sublime and majestic; as is also its companion, of the same size, a Neflune* The Laocoon rather gives you pain, at the writhings of the two snakes, and the anguish of two of the countenances expressed under the pain of their bite. Several fine Athletce and Dioscoboli, I can only just mention 5 but the little Girl playing with bones, is very natural and much admired, and is undoubtedly very antient. I must here leave ofF; as I cannot commu- nicate, by feeble description, a tithe part of the pleasure I received from a personal interview with these high and sublime personages. We were at length quite exhausted by intense application ; and by mutual consent left these superior beings, to take a refreshing walk in the pleasant gardens of the Thuilleries, under r 38 ] the fine shade of trees, and imbibing the fragrant perfume of the orange flowers. After dining at our restaurateur's in the Palais Royal as usual, we took a walk to the Place Vend6me % where, before the Revolution, there stood a magnificent equestrian statue of Louis le grande, thirty feet high, of fine bronze, with emblems of conquests and captives chained below the base of the pedestal. The sans tulottes broke this to pieces, to make it into cannon. In its place was erecled, a few years ago, La Colonnc de la grande Armee y in imitation of Trajan's pillar at Rome. It is about two thirds the size of the Monument in London. It is said to be covered with the metal of the cannon taken by the grand army from the Russians and Austrians at the battle of Austerlitz. The events of that most glorious campaign of Bonaparte's are represented in bass relief, in a spiral line reaching to the top, like the representation on Trajan's pillar of his victories over the Daciae. The inscription on it marks the occasion on which it was erected, and is worded after the pompous style of the Romans. NAPOLEO IMP AVG MONVMENTVM BELLI GERMANICt ANNO MDCCCVTRIMESTRISPATIODVCTOSVO PROFLIGATI EXAERE CAPTO GLORIAE EXERCITVS MAXIMI DICAVIT. [ 39 1 In English thus, Napoleon Emperor, August, consecrated this column to the glory of the grann army. It is formed from the brass cannon taken from the enemy, during the war in Germany, under his command; and the whole was effected in the space of three months. This pillar is hollow, and has a circular stair- case, by which we ascended to the top, where is a gallery, and on its very summit was placed a bronze figure of the Emperor, ten feet high. This was taken down on the arrival of the Allied Sovereigns, in compliment to the Em- perors he had conquered, times being now changed, and a white flag was hoisted in lieu of it. It was given out that Alexander had ordered it to be sent to Moscow to adorn the Kremlin. From the top, which is 133 feet high, we had a fine view of Paris. The Pantheon, seen from hence, appears to stand on the highest part of the city. The church of the Hospital of the Invalids makes a magnificent appearance with its golden roof. The church of Notredame ; the bridges of Austerlitz and Jena, which have each five iron arches $ the palaces of the Louvre, [ 40 1 the Luxemburgh, of the Corfrs Legis/atif, and of Beauharnois, on the banks of the Seine ; the Thuillery gardens, and the Chamfis Elisees ; all these form fine obje£ts of observation, and many of them I have yet to see and describe. Yours, &c. H. W. [ 41 1 LETTER IX. Dear Sir, Paris, %th June. 1 Promised, when I met you at Bath, that I would send you a letter from Paris, when I arrived there, and give you some little account of my journey, and what I conceived the best mode of your travelling hither. It appears, from what I can learn, that instead of going by Dover and Calais, your best, cheapest, and easiest way will be, to go either from Southampton to Havre de Grace, or from Brighton to Dieppe. By this latter route I have come hither. It is 70 miles across the Channel to Dieppe - 3 36 miles from thence to Rouen, for which you pay in a cabriolet 7 or 8 francs ; and a very convenient stage will t»ke you afterwards thence to Paris, which is 70 miles, for about 21 shillings more. I do not know that you will have any occasion for a passport. I thought, however, as the ex- pence was only is. 6d. it was better to apply to [ 42 1 the French charge des affaires for one, which I accordingly obtained. Before you agree for lodgings, sleep one night at the Hotel d'Angleterre, in the rue de Mont- martre ; which house is kept by Mrs. Brown, an Englishwoman, who will give you a good dinner with a pint of wine for three francs. You will there meet at table with people from all countries. But private lodgings are far preferable, and somewhere near to the Palais Royal ; for that is the center of every thing that is pleasant and amusing. It is in the form of the Royal Exchange in London, except that it is five times as large, and is an oblong square. You walk under piazzas all round, which are filled with shops of every kind of business, and here you can amu« yourself in all weather. Here are near thirty eating-houses, kept by traiteurs and restaurateurs j and in one corner of the Palais Royal is the Theatre Francois. The restaurateur's bill of fare is presented you as soon as you sit down. It is a printed paper, the size of an almanack, wherein is noted a list of 150 dishes, with the price fixed to each j and it alsoincludes a list of wir.es, liqueurs, fruits, and preserves. You ate a good judge of wines, (equal to any English winc-.nerchant,) and know [ *3 ] a great many sorts ; but I shall puzzle you if I, give you a list of those offered me to-day in Clement, the restaurateur's, printed bill. — Vins rouges : Vin ordinaire, i franc ; vin de Burgogne ii franc; vinde Mafon, 30 sous ; vin de Beaune 9 2» francs ; vin de Pomard, and vin de Folnay, 3$ francs ; vin de Chamberten> $\ francs; vinde C6tre Rote, 4 francs per bottle. — Vins blancs: Fin de Tonnerre, and vin de Chables, ii franc ; vin dt Muhaut, 4» francs ; vin de Champagne tnourseux, and vin de Champagne rose, 5 francs each ; vin de Grave, 4I francs. We can get Port at some of these houses, if we particularly enquire for it, and it is charged six and seven francs per bottle \ but who will have this, when he can get good Burgundy, and the very best Champagne, at a much less price ? We dined very well here for four francs each, including our bottle of wine. Now I will tell you a few things here, that John Bull would not like. There are no joints of roast beef to be seen, nor plum-puddings 5 no loaves of bread, only rolls, sometimes a yard long j rarely any strong beer or porter, no ma- hogany furniture to the lodging-houses. You sleep on stone and brick floors, which are found even in the sixth story ; no stove-grates, and only dogs to rest a lighted faggot on ; no paper money, [ 44 J that indeed might please John. We had some trouble about money before we set out, as paper won't do in France. I applied to my bankers in London, and obtained a letter of credit on the house of Perigeaux and Co. ; but besides this, I bought a quantity of gold Napoleons, at 22 shillings each, which at Paris are only worth 20 francs or tenpences; so I lost on these at least 25 per cent. The exchange between the two countries is now every day mending j I therefore advise you, if you come over soon, to bring but little money with you, except in guineas or good silver, and get a letter of credit on a banking-house here. As to travelling, you will find the roads excellent, paved with large stones in the middle part for heavy carriages to goon; an excellent method, and I wish it were adopted in England, as well as the straitness of the roads. Another pleasing circumstance is that the roads are lined with apple and pear trees on both sides, almost all the way. On our approach to Rouen, we passed, for a mile and a half at least, through an avenue of lofty elm trees, whose sides were so even, as to seem like a mighty wall on each side of us. The rows of trees are double on each side, and in- I « ] elude a pleasant shady footpath, very com- modious for travellers in hot weather. This town is something like what Bristol was forty years ago. A fine river, once full of shipping, runs through it. It has several churches well worth visiting ; and in the Market-place is erected, on a high pedestal, (which contains a conduit of water,) the statue of the famous *foan of Arc ; who, after delivering her country from the English, was at last taken prisoner by them, and burnt for a witch on this very spot, 350 years ago. A species of hunting is practised at Rouen which you would not, I think, be very fond of,-— wolf hunting. We saw several of the wolf dogs in the street: they are as fierce and savage as the animal they hunt. In coming to Paris, if you saw only the Louvre, it would well reward you for all your expence. TheThuilleries is a very magnificent palace j and the gardens are open to the public every day, where you meet 2 or 3000 people. You must not omit to see the Petit Augustittes, where there is a collection of all the finest mo- numents in France. I can but just name the various sights that are to engage your attention, while here. The church of Notredame ; the [ « ] Luxemburgh Palace ; the Paiace of the corps Legislative ; the Boulevards, &c. The church of the Hospital of the Invalids is conspi- cuous in every part of Paris, from its dome being covered with gold, which gives it a very resplen- dent appearance. You must also descend with a lighted torch into the catacombs, and go at least half a mile under ground, amongst avenues like a large wine-merchant's cellar - s only instead of bottles piled up on each hand, you will find sculls, jaw-bones, legs and arm bones; and some piled up in the form of an altar. The Pantheon is a noble building, with a dome and triangular pediment ; an humble imitation of St. Paul's. The Bastile and Temple are totally gone ; but a noble reservoir is erecting in the room of the former, on a very magnificent plan, formed by Napoleon. Having named him, who in the words of Hudibras, was " once as great as Csesar," and is, " now reduced to Nebuchadnezzar ;" you will naturally ask me what the good people of Paris now say and think of him. Why, to my astonishment, we hardly hear his name men- tioned ; Parrs is as quiet, and apparently as well reconciled to the rule of the Bourbons, as if the Bourbons had never ceased to rule. At all the Theatres the three fieurs de lis are reinstated in I *7 1 front of the royal boxes, where Napoleon used to appear, and now where the King often ap- pears, and is received with the same acclama- tions they used to give Bonaparte. They always call for the loyal song of King Henry IV. to his Gabrielle, and they sometimes join in it« Many of the public inscriptions to the honour of Napoleon are obliterated, and the pictures re- presenting him as a conqueror and hero have canvas nailed over them. As long as the French can have their public amusements, and their spe&acles, they seem to care for little else. At least a dozen theatres are open every night, (besides the Tivoli garden, and a place they call Wauxhallj) and always crowded ; particularly on Sunday night. The very day the last battle was fought, which decided the fate of France, at La Bute de Chaumont, a little beyond the heights of Mont- martre, the people went to their amusements as usual in the evening, although the fields were covered with the slain, and the hospitals full of the sick and wounded. A banker told me that it made so little impression, that he himself had invited a party of near thirty persons to dine with him on that day, and very few of them r 48 2 staid away. What can we think of such a trifling people ; or what degree of punishment or mis- fortune is necessary to reclaim them, and make them serious? I much doubt whether the French nation will easily be brought to the enjoyment of a free government like our own, their temper and disposition being so foreign to these prin- ciples. I shall now subscribe myself, dear sir, Your friend and humble servant, H. W. P. S. A French officer of the guards told me, that the last battle would not have been fought, had the Allies declared earlier in favour of the Bourbons* The Crown Prince forbidding the white cockade to be worn in his camp made them doubt the intention of the Allies. [ 40 3 LETTER X. Dear Sister, 'June gth, T If 7E are again at the Louvre to inspect the Gallery of Paintings. Judge our agreeable sensations when we entered a noble gallery of thirteen hundred feet in length, most magnifi- cently finished, in which are placed more than twelve hundred choice paintings of the first masters. Of the works of Rubens and Guido alone, there are more than a hundred. The Descent from the Cross, by the former, was brought from Antwerp; and the citizens of that town have petitioned to have it returned : but, I understand, it is settled that not a single picture is to be removed, as they are all now so finely arranged. This collection is divided into separate schools. The first is the French ; consisting of 103 pic- tures, by Le Brun, Bourdon, Poussin, Vernet, Vanloo, &c. The second is the Flemish and 5 Dutch school j in which arc 32 of Rembrandt's, 34 of Van Dyck, and many excellent ones by Ostade> Teniers, Rysdael, to the amount of 600 : Gerard Dow's famous picture of the Water DoElor is also here. The remainder are of the Italian school j in which number are 26 of Raphael's; 24 of Titian's; many by Tintoret, Salvator Rosa, An- drea del Sartc, and Leonardo de Vinci. It is not for me to point out the excellence of a few where there is so much to admire. Sufficient it is to say, that the inspection of this gallery alone is a full recompense for a journey to Paris ; and you are not hurried through it, as in viewing the collections of Noblemen in England, but you may come as often as you please, and dwell on any particular painting that you fancy, for any length of time, fully to appreciate its excellencies. We passed several mornings, and seemed never to be satisfied, in viewing this magnify cent collection of paintings. I bought, very cheap, jn the Montmartre Boulevard, two or three good proof engravings of some of Rubens and Ra- phael's. The architecture of this gallery is very fine; and the pillars of verd antique and oriental marble, very superbly fitted up, accompanied with, bustos on the bases, behind which are placed mirrors with great effect. The letter N is every [ 51 ] where delineated, to shew who was the founder of this arrangement. In the vestibule of this grand room, are some excellent paintings of the French school, not in the catalogue ; particularly Brutus fiassing sentence on his two sons, by Thiers. The Musee d'Histoire Naturelle was the next object of our attention. Here is an excellent arrangement of plants, fossils, and animals; and skeletons of lions, tvgers, bears, monkies, whales, and fish of various kind. The Museum also contains the skeleton of a giraffe or camelo- pardalis, 14 feet high. The wild beasts are in general placed in dens 10 or 12 feet deep, open at the top to the spectators, but with a perpendicular wall, so as to prevent their climbing up. The lions and tigers were restrained in cages. A fatal accident happened here a few months ago. One of the soldiers on guard dropped a piece of money into the den of a black bear, and without consulting any one, he determined at night silently to descend and recover his money, supposing the bear would be asleep. As soon, however, as he began to descend the ladder, the bear saw him, and, before he could quit the ladder, pushed it down into the den, and the sol- dier with it. In the morning it was discovered, that the monster hail eaten up half the rrjan, and e 2 [ 54 r hidden the other part in a hole within the den where he slept. There wae some very fine palm trees in the garden, and various curious plants. We went from hence to dine on the banks of the Seine, at a restaurateur's adjoining to the garden j where we had an excellent dinner of four articles, and a good bottle of Burgogne wine, for about four shillings each. To-morrow I think I shall give you a treat in the description of the monuments at the Petit Jugustines ; till then adieu. I am, &c. H. W. f 53 J LETTER XI. Rue de Rich lieu, June 10, 1 8 14. Dear. Sister, HPHE Museum of the French Monuments is "*• well worthy a very close attention : it is the Westminster Abbey of Paris. During the frenzy of the Revolution many churches were reduced to ruins ; most of the monuments they contained were mutilated, and many of them destroyed; The tombs at St. Denis in particular were torn up by the unhallowed hands of igno- rant barbarism : the body of their beloved Henry IV. amongst the rest, but after suffering some indignity it was rescued and placed here, together with his monumen. It is chiefly owing to the indefatigable zeal of Monsieur le Noir(whom we met here) that the colle&ion is so well made and so scientifically arranged. He has published an historical and chronological account of all the rnonuments, which are very numerous j and they are, for the most part, t 5* ] arranged in ages or centuries, shewing the va- rious dresses, as well as the state of sculpture and* statuary, at different aeras. Here are to be seen antient monuments of almost all the first race of kings from Clovis to Charles Martel, the father of King Pepin. The first monuments that particularly engaged our notice, were those of Cardinals Richlieu and Mazarine, on account of their fine execution and natural size, giving us as perfect an idea of the men as if we had lived with them. They were designed by Le Brun, and executed, I think, by Girandon. The countenances are very expressive. Religion is represented as sup- porting Richlieu, holding a bible in her hand, to which she points ; and a female figure, repre- senting History, is at his feet, writing his life. The monument erected by Henry II. for his beloved Catherine de Medicis is a very elegant one ; the three Graces are represented as sup- porting the urn in which her ashes are deposited. This was executed by Pilon in 156a. There are some curious Roman antiquities, which were dug up under the foundation of some old church at Paris; among others, an altar erected to Jupiter, and inscribed TIB CAESAR AVG. t ss ) Diana of Poi&iers, Duchess of Valentinois, and mistress to Francis I. died in 1566: Here is her portrait, and at its side that of Francis : both deserving particular attention. Ann of Montmorenci,* a famous man in history, and constable of France, on a beautiful serpen- tine pillar of white marble, nine feet high. A bust of Admiral de Coligny, who was assassinated at the massacre at Paris on the fatal St. Bartholemew's Day; A second monument of the Constable de Montmorenci in complete armour : he was in- stalled a knight of the garter in England by Queen Elizabeth, in 1572 : he was killed at the battle of St. Denis. The monument is finely executed by Jean Bullon, an eminent architect of that age: the statue is by Prieur; But this particular account, taken from my memoranda, will not entertain you; I shall there- fore more generally observe that the collection appears to me far superior to that of Westminster Abbey j and the following are names that will much interest you, — *the statues of the Duke de Sully, of Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Fontaine, Philip de Comines, Joan of Arc, Bertram du Guesclin, so frequently celebrated by Froissart, Cardinal Rochefoucault ; a fine full-length figure f M 3 of Ann of Burgundy, wife to the Duke of Bed- ford, regent of France, in the time of our Henry VI. There are, I suppose, out of 567 monuments which our book describes, full two hundred that cannot be surpassed by those at Westminster. It was particularly interesting to me to see the effigies and likenesses of such eminent persons as Fenelon, Descartes, Mazarene, Colbert ; Ga* brielle d'Estrees, the favourite mistress of Henry IV.; Catharine de Medicis, Mary de Medicis, Montaigne, and others famous in history. There is also a grand monument to the great Conde. The tomb of Abelard and EloUa has been removed from the Paraclete into the garden of the Petit Augustines, together with the original chapel itself; which, being all in high preserva- tion, are particularly interesting. They were brought hither by the orders of Napoleon ; who a great share irr forwarding this design. The had front of the entrance to the gardens has the following inscription : " Les facades qui dccorent cette cour faisees " partie de chateau du Grillon, bate Tan 1500, " pour George D'Amboise. Le monument a " 6te transporte et eleve sous le consulat de [ 57 ] •* Bonaparte, et le ministree de Chaptal, dans les " annees x et xi de la Republique Francaise." The facades which ornament this court formed /tart of the Castle of Gril/on, built in the year 1500 for George D y Amboise. This monument was transported and filaced here, under the Consulate of Bonaparte, and the Ministry of Chaptal, in the years 1 o and 1 1 of the French Republic. Your's, &c. H. W. P. S. It appears that from Napoleon's rnisap. plication of the finances of the country, arising from the necessities of his wars; the public funds are now in as ruinous a state as when Monsieur Neckar declared (at the beginning of the Revo- lution) that the nation was insolvent. Nothing can restore bleeding and humbled France to its internal prosperity but a very long peace, and the application of the greatest talents to rectify its disordered finances. I met an English prisoner who was at Sarlouis at the date of the battle of Leipsig. Every place was filled with the wounded to the amount of many thousands, who were brought down the [ 5S ] Moselle from Mentz, and dying by hundreds for want of accommodations : the people cursing the war, and Bonaparte for continuing it when he might have made peace. The Emperor began to grow unpopular, he says, after he had rejected the armistice at Prague; and again at Chatillon, for the people saw there was no end to his love of war. He might well be called Nafioleon the destroyer ! . [ 59 ] LEETTER XIL Paris, Hotel de petit circle, rue de la Lot, i itk yune. Rev. and Dear Sir, A Letter from an old friend in a foreign country cannot be very unacceptable, es- pecially when written from Paris ; a city so famous, and where such wonderful, such tragical, and such unexpe&ed events have taken place within the last twenty-five years. We have seen, indeed, in the person of the mild and amiable Louis XVI. the fulfilment of the denunciation, that the sins of their fathers would be visited on the children to the third and fourth generation. Although some of the horrors of the Revolution had begun, I believe, at the time you were here, yet the Bastile was not quite destroyed, and the King was still on the throne. There is not, how- ever, a vestige now left of either the Bastile or the Temple, where the royal family were so long confined, and so cruelly treated. When you were at Paris, the court of the Thuilleries was C 60 ] divided from the Place de Carousel by houses * and the barracks of the Swiss soldiers. After their inhuman treatment and savage murder, those houses and barracks were entirely removed, and the whole forms one large court to the Thuil- leries, more than 450 feet square, where Bonaparte used to exercise his troops. The buildings round it are improved, and made to correspond with the palace ; across the middle, however, runs a light iron palisade ; the tops of which being gilded, make a very splendid ap- pearance. There are three gateways or entrances, decorated with trophies of war, and statuary ; but the middle one, in front of the gate of the Thuilleries, is a triumphal arch, a copy of that of Septimus Severus at Rome, adorned with bass reliefs, relating to Napoleon's conquests. In one of these the Emperor of Austria is represented as submitting to him : this was intended to have been erased ; but the Emperor hearing of it, nobly forbade it, not willing that so handsome a work should be mutilated. On the top of this arch gtand the famous Horses brought from Venice ; they are of bronze, and make a magnificent appearance, being at- tached to a golden triumphal Roman car, and led by two golden Victories as large as life. iW 5-5/3' *4 *a-"i V JUntenson fiftternoftaj- Rohs LonoUn. r 61 J I need not tell you that the Horses once stood at Corinth ; and when the savage Roman Consul Mummius burnt that proud city and every thing in it, except a few pidhires saved by the interposition of some men of taste, he fancied the beauty of these Horses, and brought them to Rome. The Emperor Constantine admired them so much, that he took them away to adorn the new city he had built ; from whence a thousand years, afterwards, the Venetians took them to adorn St. Mark's. At the beginning of the Revolution you re- member how fond the French were of afTe&ing the style and chara&er of Romans, and calling us Carthaginians, with their delenda est Carthago* Now they afte£t to be Grecians, affirming that the Athenians had a place they called the Thuil- leries, which word is of the same meaning as Qemaricos. They say, also, that their taste for statuary and sculpture i;s very similar to that of the inhabitants of Attica, as well as their love for spe£tacles A publication entitled f* Le Conduc- teur de VEtranger a Paris , /tar F. M. Mar chant? asserts this ; and his book has undergone re- peated editions. On one side of this court of the Thuilleries is the gallery of the Louvre, where the fine col- [ 6i ] lection of pictures is arranged. The gallery itself, from which you look into the court, is not modern, being built by Henry the IVth. but it has been most sumptuously fitted up by the late Emperor, to deposit his plundered goods in ; namely, the fine paintings which he collected from Rome, Florence, Naples, Antwerp, Dus» seldorfF, and the various other places, which he overran. For in all the conquests he made, one condition was generally stipulated ; that he should have the selection of a certain number of their best paintings, and he always had some persons near him who well knew their value. This gallery is nearly one third of a mile long, formed, by means of pillars of beautiful antique marble supporting arches into eight or nine com- partments, which divide the works of the artists of the different schools from each other. Thev are extremely well arranged ; and of course are so interesting to those who have a taste for it, that many make a point of spending two hours here every day. For particulars I must refer you to the books which describe it, and with which I can furnish you when I have next the pleasure of seeing you. I must not however dismiss the subject of the Louvre, without informing you that it is greatly [ 63 ] improved in embellishments, since you saw it, The late Emperor laid out half a million of money on it, entirely new modelled it, and has placed a handsome pallisade tipped with gold, in front of it, towards the Seine. The building is in many parts decorated with the letter N en- circled with a wreath of laurel, surmounted with an imperial crown. This design appears every where, upon all his public works, which are very numerous in Paris. Had he reigned ten years longer, his friends and advocates say, he would have made Paris a rival to antient Rome. There is one advantage Paris has over London, namely, that its public buildings are not defiled and obscured by smoke ; for you know there is no smoke ever seen in Paris. But Paris has no fine squares as London has ; and the narrowness of the streets, with a kennel running down the middle, which is generally the cleanest part to walk in, makes it very disagreeable to foot passengers, the dirt being raked up to the sides. It is, therefore, very inferior to our metro- polis, nor does it appear to me to be of half its size. It is strange that they have not yet formed any elevated footways, where persons may walk safe and dry, except indeed just on the Quay, opposite the Louvre and Thuilleries. C 6* ] Versailles, at the time you visited it, was a very splendid palace, adorned with every thing to make it glorious and majestic. But now, alas, how is the mighty fallen ! On our approach to it, it appeared in clouded majesty ; and from its magnitude and fine arrangement, it commanded our respect j but when we came near, and sought to enter it, how melancholy was the scene ! The court-yard over-grown with weeds, and large blocks of stone lying about as in a mason's yard, the cornice in many places beaten down, and the roof letting in water. All was silent and gloomy. We looked about and knocked at several doors, without hearing any sound but what we Ourselves made. At length we discovered a small picquet guard in a distant part of the front court ; and one of the soldiers approaching us, pointed to a small door at the further end ; where we at last found a man who undertook to shew us over the palace, but from his appearance we had but faint hopes of gaining much information. He first shewed us the Ofiera House, the largest and once the most splendid in Europe j no expence had been spared upon it : covered with golden ornaments, supported by noble Corinthian pil. lars, and gilt ballustrades j but all the lustre of I 65 J the gold was dimmed, and appeared only as a dead brown paint. Well may we exclaim in the words of the Prophet, '* How is the gold ,c become dim ! How is the most fine gold " changed ! How doth the place sit solitary, that " was full of people !" As we passed through the various rooms, des- titute of furniture, we noticed the fine ceilings in a state of decay, with the white plaster ap- pearing through the paintings of Le Brurt, Champagne, and Chevelet, artists to whom im- mense sums had been paid for the highest efforts of their genius. The wainscoating and cornices, once beautifully ornamented and gilded, are broken ; and the gold every where appears of fc dull, dingy brown. All the glorious and splendid furniture had been sold by a Parisian auctioneer to the citizens for a hundredth part of its value, and scattered over the world. I no- ticed one broken glass which appeared not to have found a purchaser, as it had still the ticket on it, which was lot 95. The room of state where the proud Louis received the homage of those states and princes he had conquered, had been converted into an au£Uon-room, where all this princely furniture was sold. We were shewn the room where Louis the Great [ 66 ] breathed his last. It gave birth to much reflec- tion, on a contrast humbling to human great- ness ; but I shall leave it to you to descant on. We saw likewise the door where the mob broke in, and the Queen's apartment, and the manner of her escape into the King's chamber. It was pathetically described by some visitors, who now joined us. We came to a gallery, des- cribed to us as 222 feet in length, covered entirely on the side opposite the windows with looking-glasses ; but the room being totally without furniture exhibited no marks of gran- deur, and many of the mirrors were broken. Tired with the melancholy scene, we were glad to leave it; but I will not close the subject without relating the following curious fa£r. I have a book in my possession, printed in the year 1705, when Louis was in all his glory, as well as this palace, his most splendid residence; in which book is a prophecy delivered against this place in the following words : " Who art " thou, Louis the blasphemer ? who art thou ** that hast boasted thyself in so haughty a " manner against me and my children, &c. ? I " will glorify myself upon thee. I will destroy " all those images of thyself which thou hast u set up, and all thy statues. Thy miserable [ 67 ] " courtiers who adore thee more than myself, " even all the Court of France, I will make them * an abomination in that kind. Yea, Versailles, < c and thy proud works, which thou hast made " for the glory of thy name, I will throw them " to the ground, and all thy insolent inscriptions, " thy figures, and the abominable pictures of " thy own glory !" How literally has this been fulfilled ! And further, " Paris, Paris, impe- " rial city,f that imperial city, I will afflict it " dreadfully. Yea, the Royal Family will I " affli6t. I will avenge the iniquity of this king ft upon his grand-children." Here is a small variation, for those who suffered were his great grand-children ; but this is a mode of speech not absolutely varying from the truth. The writer of this prophecy was John Lacy, one of those men known by the name of the French prophets, who came over to Eng- land in Queen Ann's time. Some part of his prophesy is delivered in rather coarse language, but that is no impeachment of its truth, as so many parts of it have been literally fulfilled a hundred years after it; when t It was only a royal city at this time. Napoleon, a hundred years after, first made it imperial, which is a very remarkable circumstance. F 1 t «» ] there was not the least probability of these events, unless that, through the tyranny and cruelty of Louis, they might have been antici- pated. That this denunciation was very circum- stantially foretold, as well as the miserable suf- erings and massacres at Lyons, also mentioned, no one can deny. This prognostication ap- peared after the revocation of the edict of Nantz, and the subsequent cruel persecutions of the Huguenots, by which many were driven at that period into England. Every traveller can witness the total destruc- tion of the emblems, trophies, and statues erefted by Louis XIV. to his glory. There is hardly any memorial left of it at Versailles or Paris, except the Gate of St. Denis. I am, &c. H. W. L » I LETTER Xiir. Paris, June 12, 18 14, Dear. Sister, HPO-DAY we com pleat one week at Paris, and it seems, when measuring time by incident, to be at least a month. We go out every morning as soon as we have finished our breakfast, and seldom return till bed-time. Our dinners we generally take at Monsieur Clement's, the restaurateur, in the Palais Royal, which is just opposite the Theatre Francais, where we have seen several of Moliere's plays. We have been also to the Theatre du Vaudeville, where small pieces are performed, three or four in succession, and which gene- rally turn on some wit or pleasantry. Cuhid and Psyche was one of them. The theatres are neither so handsome nor $0 large as that of Covent-Garden ; and they look rather gloomy, from having no lights in the boxes 5 a large chandelier, with a double [ ro t circle of Argand lamps, is suspended high over the pit, and is to give light to the whole house. They do not shift their scenes, one continuing through five whole afts : the music before the pieces is but indifferent. No women are ever seen in the pit. The royal box at every theatre now exhibits the three Jieur delis, instead of the letter N wreathed, with the imperial crown over it. This morning we for once set out on our walks before breakfast, and went to the Heights of Montmartre to see the place where the last battle was fought. We saw near the Telegraph the ruins of two or three houses ; but whether occasioned by the cannon-balls, we could not learn. We ascended the Telegraph, and had a fine view of Paris, St. Cloud, the Castle of Vincenncs, the course of the Seine, and the various public buildings; also the Luxemburgh palace and its pleasant gardens. The master of the Telegraph informed us that the last battle was fought about three miles to the north-east, at a place called La Bute de Chaumont, prcs de Belville. By his account there were 18,000 lives lost. As the distance was not great, we determined to walk thither, in order to see the field f 71 ] of battle which closed the long and bloody warfare with France. We thought we might see something to relate on our return ; but judge of our surprize when we came there, to behold nothing but fields of corn and grass in high verdure. We looked amongst the trees for the marks of bullets or cannon-balls, not a vestige could we see ; no dead bodies, nor any thing that demonstrated a battle. We observed a lime-kiln near the spot, and seeing a man at work, we went to him for information. He had been in the battle, shewed us where the French took their post on the heights, and where the Allies advanced through the valley. Where we then stood, he said, was the hottest scene. The only discovery we made was of a large plan- tation of black currant trees with unripe fruit on them, of which I suspeft the French make very free in the composition of their iight wines. We ventured to ask our Ciceroni a question or two more. * What is become of the dead bodies?' (t Why, Sir, the very next morning after the battle, *' the farmers and many workmen began digging " holes, into which they threw thirty or forty " bodies at a time, and then covered them up, " and began ploughing and sowing immediately." * How many lives do you suppose were lost on. [ 72 ] « this occasion?' "From 18 to 25,000." * How ■ many generals were killed ?' " Generals • u there were no generals with the army, they " were all in Paris at the time : it was all left "to the captains and inferior officers!" The marshals and generals were all the while nego- ciating an arrangement for the surrender of Paris. After so long and so hot a walk we hastened back to the Palais Royal ; where we got some eggs, some cold fowl, and a bottle of light wine, which, though drank in the morning, never reached our brains to disorder them. We now separated, George to deliver a letter to the Due d'Liancourt, and I to the Hotel de Petit Cercle to write you this letter. George went last evening to the French Theatre to see Talma in tragedy ; and I to the Odeon musical theatre, a building I have not yet described. It is also called Theatre de 1'Im- peratrice, et Opera Buffa, place de l'Odeon, pros de Luxembourg. It is a very handsome new building, surrounded with a colonnade ; and the front has a portico like a Grecian temple, with a triangular pediment or tympanum, supported by ten or twelve Corinthian pillars. The old building was burnt down in the year 1 799, during [ 73 ] the performance of one of Kotzebue's plays, which had a great run here, and not without sus- picion of design. The new one does credit to the genius of M. Chalgrin. When you enter, you ascend a very handsome wide staircase; and turning on your left you come into a large saloon, ornamented with handsome pillars, where refresh- ments of every kind are to be had. The house is the handsomest I have yet seen, and is something like the Bath Theatre. The boxes are very conve- nient, the first tier are supported by cariated statues in front. This theatre is now devoted exclusively to the performance of Italian Comic Operas. The one I saw, was .he Secret Marriage, The performance was excellent, though I do not recolle£t the names of any one of the performers. I was there with a very agreeable party of ladies, who of course principally engaged my attention. The ladies at Paris are very agreeable and polite to strangers. Yours, &c. H. W. r 74 ] LETTER XIV. Dear Sister, 'June i$th. THHIS day we went to see the Palace of the -*- Luxembourg, built by order of Mary de Medicis, widow of Henry IV. and mother of Louis XIII. The history of her life is finely de- lineated by the pencil of Rubens, in twenty dif- ferent paintings, beginning with her birth, and ending with her apotheosis. They are truly deserving the admiration they receive. But it is endless for me to repeat continual praises of the same kind, yet I must not forget to speak of the beauty of one painting of Raphael's, A Holy Family, which attracts every body's atten- tion, and is supposed to be his chefd'oeuvre. The figure of St. John, as a child, is the sweetest and most engaging face I ever saw painted. There is one room furnished entirely with the paintings of Vernet ; also another with those of Lesueur, and some most admirable sea-pieces by a Monsieur Hue, a living artist at Paris, which I mistook for those of Vernet. The building itself is noble, and the apartments magnificent. It is [ is ] become the Palace of the Conservative Senate. The apartments they occupy are distinct from the rooms we were shewn, and we are obliged to make a second visit to inspect them. The gardens are very large, and laid out in the old style, with fountains, statues, terraces, and angular walks. The shade of the fine cedars was very grateful to us, overcome by fatigue and heat. We next went to see the Hospital of the Invalids, wherein are at this time 3800 wounded men, many of them in the late battle. Some of the invalids we saw about the premises, nearly recovered, were without legs, some without arms, and one we saw wore a mask over his face on account of part of it being shot away. This hospital was built by Louis XIV. and is very large and hand- some, having five courts. The kitchen is the largest I ever saw, with most enormous French chafing-dishes and stew-holes; and here I saw an immense jack for roasting, the only one I have seen in France ; they are a sort of rara aves, for roasting is an awkward business, where there is no sea-coal used. The mode of dressing their potatoes is not such as you would like. They are pared like an apple, then cut into longitu- dinal pieces and thrown into a large tub of water, to be boiled or fried as occasion requires. r 76 ] The chapel adjoining was formerly called the Temple of Mars, and was adorned with the ensigns and standards, &c. taken bv Louis XIV. in his campaigns; but they were all removed or destroyed during the Revolution. This is the church, whose gilded dome makes so splendid an appearance as you approach Paris. We went into this church just as the marriage of one of the invalids was about to take place j and the Duke d'Angouleme was expected to be pre- sent on the occasion, as a popular thing. The interior of the dome is handsomely ornamented with medallions, amongst which we noticed the portraits of Turenne and Saxe. Our next visit was to the Gobelin Tapestry manufactory. This, as well as all the other manufactories in Paris, is in a ruinous state. It was one of the great errors and bad policy of Napoleon to discourage all trade and commerce, wishing to see no other prominent classes in society but soldiers and husband- men ; which brought on at last a sudden failure of his finances, and was, conjointly with the horrors of the conscription, one great cause of his ruin. We saw but one or two looms at work. The mode of manufacture is very similar to that practised at Axminster. The chain or Pant hb ok at Patu& t 77 } warp is suspended perpendicularly, and on it are marked, by the chief artist, the outlines of the design. The painting the workmen are to imitate, hangs before them ; and with a large needle of coloured yarn they work in the various colours, pressing them firm into their places, by using a kind of comb. I did not see much to admire. It is performed after a very expensive mode, and has never answered. The colours like- wise soon fade ; and whenever the tapestry gets damp the surface becomes puckered, and will not lie smooth again, owing to its composition of very different materials, silk and worsted, which shrink from each other in course of time* We saw one beautiful piece of tapestry, the death of Dessaix, at the battle of Marengo. He is represented as pale, and falling from his horse into the arms of Marshal Le Brun. It is as large as life, and the execution of it occupied three years and a half. From thence we went to the Pantheon. It has a dome and entrance something like the West end of St. Paul's. It stands on the foundation of the old Church of St. Genevieve, and was planned as long ago as the time of Louis the XVth, in consequence of a vow. The foundation' stone was laid f 78 ] (my book says) on 5th Sept. 1764, and yet the building is now scarcely finished. It stands in the rue St. Jacque, on the highest ground in Paris, and is built after the form of an antient Greek temple, that of Virtue and Honour 5 implying that you must pass through the first before you can arrive to the last. In the church are deposited the ashes of such men as have distinguished themselves in the service of their country. We mounted to the top of it for the sake of the prospect ; and we descended to the crypt below, where are apartments and niches capacious enough to receive two or three thousand interments. There are already many deposited there, as appears by the inscriptions ; Clarke, De Lasnes, and twenty more, whose names I cannot recollect. There are also removed hither the wooden monuments of Rousseau and Voltaire. It is altogether a very noble building, erected on the plan of a M. Soufflot. The perystile is omposed of twenty-two Corinthian pillars, 38 feet in height. I am, Sec. H. W. [ 79 ] LETTER XV. Dear Sister, June 17. T>EING near the Luxembourg, which bears also the name of the Palais du Senat Con- servatif, we adjourned thither to finish seeing the other part of it. We ascended two flights containing 52 steps, before we reached the hall of entrance, where we expected to see two fine paintings of Bonaparte, of which I have seen engravings j one represents him at the head of his generals, led on by victory to the temple of fame : but to my mortification, I found canvas had been nailed over them, to keep them from sight. A statue of him is also removed from this place. The Senate house is very grand, and well worth seeing, together with the splendid throne ere&ed for the late Emperor, in front of the circular seats, and on an exalted situation, retired rather from sight, within pillars and [ 80 j festoons of crimson and gold. But description is tiresome. It is sufficient to say, it is well worth visiting. The same may be said of the Palais du Corp Legislatif, which was formerly the Bourbon Palace; but since it has been adorned with a beauti- ful portico front, and being near the banks of the Seine, it forms a beautiful objeft from the terrace in the Thuillery gardens on the opposite bank. It is fitted up much like the other. Its principal entrance is not towards the river, though it looks so handsome on that front, and the ascent into it is by a very handsome flight of steps, adorned with statues of de Sully, Colbert, and other great statesmen. On the South side (the grand entrance) is a triumphal gate-way, raised between two grand pavilions, to which it is connected by a double colonnade of the Corinthian order. I am, &c. H. W. I 81 ] LETTER XVI. Dear Sister, Paris, June 17. I Have not yet told you of our journey to Versailles, and the two Trianons. We set out before breakfast to the back of the Thuil- lery gardens, where there are always cabriolets in waiting, to take passengers thither at thirty sous a piece. We mounted one of these voi- tures, and soon passed the barrier, not far from the bridge of Jena 3 opposite to which appears the foundation of a palace, which Napoleon intended to build for the young King of Rome. Of course this work is now abandoned. The next object that attracted our notice was the house of the late Boileau, the celebrated author of imitations of Horace. A house, beautifully situated on an eminence on our left hand, commanded our attention, namely, Belleville, the seat built for Madame Pompadour, mistress to Louis XV. At Seve, about five miles from Paris, you cross G C 82 ] the' river Seine. The Seve manufactory we could not inspect; and St. Cloud, which was only about two miles distant on our right, we were prevented from viewing; the Comted'Artois being confined there by illness. I was shewn the house where the great Duke de Sully lived, the faithful minister to Henry IVth, who often came and visited him here. The entrance by the great road to the town of Versailles is very handsome and commanding. The large barracks round the palace are built after the form of tents. We reached the inn close to the palace about ten, when we enjoyed a refreshing breakfast of eggs, cold chicken, and wine, after a hot ride. The palace, which- was once so sumptuous, now exhibits only the marks of fallen great- ness. The courts are overrun with weeds, and the front is blocked up with large masses of stone, lying scattered about. It was a conside- rable time before we could find a human being to shew us. the palace, and when we at last entered it, we could not perceive a single article of furniture. There were to be seen large rooms, but every thing marked departed grandeur. The swallows' nests, stuck thick under the cornice, contained the chief inhabitants of this once mag- nificent abode of Louis Ie Grande. Here was [ 83 J formerly displayed all the pride of conquest and glory. It is now fit only for misery and wretch- edness : the floors are broken, the doors un- hinged, the golden ornaments faded to a dead brown ; the fine painted ceilings, the work of the first artists, are cracked, and the white plaster appears through them. We were conducted into the Opera House, once the grandest as well as the largest in Europe; where, at the Court of Louis, the ambassadors and great men of all countries were made proud by being admitted. Alas ! what is it now ! a receptacle for bats and owls ! ! How strongly it marks the insta- bility of human greatness ! We were shewn the room where the greatest and proudest of mortal kings breathed his last. We saw the door where the mob first broke in to seize the late Kino- and Queen, the descendants of this great king ; who, trembling with fear, were glad to appear at the balcony with their infant children, to de- precate the fury of the people. Let me hasten from this scene ! When we walked into the garden, we per- ceived that the front on that side had been beautified at the expence of the late Emperor, who conceived the idea of restoring its grandeur, and residing here j but so large is this palace, G 2 [ 8* ] and so dilapidated, that though he had already laid out equal to 200,000 pounds on it, it seemed to make but very little shew. The gardens remain in the same style in which they were laid out by Louis XlVth j with canals and basons of water, green hedges, and diagonal walks, with a profusion of statues, very uninteresting. We therefore hastened to the Trianon^ built also by Louis the Great, as a retreat from the toils and cares of state, and the overwhelming splen- dour of his neighbouring residence. This magnificent building is like the letter H ; a peristyle of 22 columns forming a picture gal- lery, which joins the two wings together. It is fitted up altogether in very superb taste, being a favourite residence of the late Empress Maria Louisa. In approaching, you see nothing at first but the gallery connecting the two buildings, which only looks like an open colonnade, the windows being just opposite each other, which deceives: you. This palace was finished in a modern style, neat, and in most excellent order ; we saw a ^ood library here, and fine long galleries richly ornamented ; in one of which Napoleon had placed models of men of war, frigates, and sloops. We were also shewn the private [ 85 ] apartments of the Empress ; which are a mix- ture of elegance, taste, and magnificence. A French bedstead has a head at both ends : the drapery of the Empress's, composed of fine muslin or cambric and lace, was most delicately held up by two golden angels as large as life, one at the head and the other at the feet. Napoleon had also here a suite of apartments for himself, equally splendid, with a small bath of white marble close to his bed-side, with cocks of hot and cold water. I observed his suspicious temper and guarded conduct, even in the midst of this ; there were behind his bed private doors and crooked passages, for quick escape. I thought of Damocles and the sus- pended dagger. The petit Trianon is a kind of ajifienage to this place. It is a single house with a garden set out in the English taste, a winding stream through a green lawn, with a pretty bridge, and the Temple of Love, rather fanciful. What I most admired was a very elegant little Theatre within the house, with the boxes lined with paper, of a green ground spotted with bees. I forgot to mention, in describing the gardens of Versailles, a sight that pleased us much. It was the bath of Afiollo : it comes suddenly on you, within a kind of small amphitheatre, [ 86 ] surrounded with rocks and shrubs and a lake of water ; and on its further side, out of an elevated rock, you see a group issuing from an antient temple embosomed therein, con- sisting of d/io//o, Thetis, and some nymphs ; > he seems to be taking leave of her. In another opening of the rock, you see the Horses of the Sun led out by the Hours, who are equipping them, and one of them is feeding or drinking. It is a very spirited design, and was planned, I believe, by Louis XV. Exhausted now by perpetual attention, we hastened back to our Inn, and mounted a cabriolet then waiting for passengers. We were three men, and three women j one of the latter was our charioteer : it is not, indeed, uncommon to see a woman mount the coach- box and drive the stage?. We returned partly by another road, which was beautifully varied with hill and vale, and fine shrubs. A fine cha- teau, about a mile from Paris, I viewed with pain, having been the residence of the most unfortunate Princess Lamballe, so cruelly mas- sacred by the Parisian mob. Believe me, &c. H. W. C 87 ] LETTER XVII. Dear Sister, Paris, June i$. /^\N the Sunday that the fete de Dieu was ^-^ celebrated, a friend offered to take us to Court, to see his Majesty and the Royal Family go to mass. We ascended to the great hall of the Thuilleries over the entrance : it is a noble room, a cube of about fifty feet, and is very completely furnished. A gallery passes round the top, where appear two doors opposite each other j on each side of which figures of men in gilded armour are placed. It is hung round with paintings of the principal events in Bo- naparte's campaigns : the bridge of Lodi, the passage of the Rhine, the battles of Austerlitz and Marengo, the capitulation of Ulm, and his entrance into Vienna. The ceiling is likewise beautifully painted. The whole was arranged under the direction of the Emperor himself. It is a matter of surprize to me, that he could iind time from his pursuits of ambition and war [ 88 ] to attend to the ere&ion and finishing so many noble works that he has undertaken. One very interesting part of the furniture of this saloon is the portraits, at full length, of eighteen of his Marshals in their full costume. This was a great treat, to contemplate the form and features of those whose actions have so often filled our newspapers, and whom we could now survey as long as we pleased, without rude- ness. I will proceed to give you the names as I took them down at my leisure, together with their titles, for your more easy recollection. Berthier, prince of Wagram and Neufchatel. Ney, prince of Moskwa and duke of Elchingen. Massena, prince of Esling and duke of Rivoli. Bessieres, duke of Tivoli, since dead. Clarke, duke of Feltre. Marmont, duke of Ragusa. Augereau, duke of Castiglione. Macdonald, duke of Tarentum. Champagny, duke of Cadore. Viclor, duke of Belluno. Souit, duke of Dalmatia. Kellerman. Mortier, duke of Treviso. Oudinot, duke of Reggio. Moncey, duke of Gonegliano. t 89 ] Suchet, duke of Albufera. Gouvin St. Cyr. Davoust, (an ugly looking dog.) There were busts ^also below them of those generals and principal officers who had fallen in battle 3 Kleber, Dessaix, Dugomier, Duroc, Lasnes, &c. While we were contemplating these pictures, three of the marshals entered, and passed into the presence chamber; two of whom we recognized by their portraits to be Berthier and Augereau. There are two large windows in this saloon, to the north and south, opening into balconies. That on the south commands a view of the Thuillery gardens, which were full of company walking. Beyond it we see the Place de la Concord^ or Revolution, where the executions took place, and les chamfis Elysees^ and a beauti- ful avenue, at least two miles in length. On the right hand of the gardens is a range of hand- some buildings ere£led by the Emperor for a tax and post office, and many of the other public offices ; which were intended to be removed thither when these fine buiidings were finished, which are all raised on pillars and arches, like the front of the Royal Exchange. Ju&t behind C so ] these is the Place de Vendome, where the famous pillar stands, before described. From the north window, on the opposite side, we look into the Court of the Thuilleries, where the carriages of those coming to Court are drawn up in two Unes. Beyond this is the Place de Carousel^ separated from the court by a neat iron palisade, whose points are gilt; and in a line with this division" stands the triumphal arch, on the top of which are placed the famous bronze horses which once adorned the city of Corinth, and said to be the work of a Greek sculptor, named Leucippus. You must forgive me, if, in the course of these letters, written on the spur of the occasion, I repeat some of the informa- tion a second time. A reader may more readily forgive this, than the omission of important infor- mation under the idea of having already related it. We received great politeness and civility from a French officer of the Royal Horse Guards, a Captain Segre, then in waiting ; and it was from him I learnt what I have related. He spoke* English very well, having been in London some years ago. He told us that Napoleon was cer- tainly deranged at intervals, being subject to epileptic fits, and at some of these periods his behaviovr was verv violent and insupportable^ [ 91 ] He often disgusted his Generals, with whom he quarrelled : once a very serious dispute took place between him and his brother-in-law, Joachim Murat, king of Naples. His generals therefore, had good reason to dislike his service, and make terms with the Allies, thereby pre- serving Paris from destru£tion ; which certainly must have happened, if the arrangement had not taken place the day of the last battle. In the midst of this conversation my attention was arrested by the appearance of two very odd looking men. By their large hats and homely dress I at first took them to be Quakers. They walked boldly up to the door of the presence chamber, and were going in, when they were stopped by the officers on guard. It turned out that they were deputies from the province of Britanny, come to present their adherence. Their countenances were the picture of rude health ; they wore plain brown coats without any collars, yarn stockings, high shoes, and their shirt collars tied with ribbon. Their country, you know, once belonged t England, and was called Little Britain. The native language of the peasants of Britanny very much re- sembles the Welsh; and these might have passed for Welshmen in England. As soon as [ 92 ] their arrival and business was announced to his Majesty, they were readily admitted to an audience, from vyhence they soon returned, very well pleased with their reception. Shortly after the company in the saloon were informed that his Majesty was coming, and a long aveuue across the room was formed for the royal family to pass. First appeared the officers of the court, then some of the lords in waiting and the marshals, next walked the Dukes of Angouleme and Berri. A general exclamation of le roi, le roiy announced the approach of his Majesty, who stopped several times to receive petitions, which he did very graciously, kindly addressing the persons who presented them. The Du- chess d' Angouleme walked next after the king, and then followed the ladies in waiting. I saw this Princess at Cheltenham last summer ; she then appeared with a dejected countenance, and a redness about the eyes, the result of a long heart-felt grief. This appearance even now seemed not to have been quite worn off. This evening, »after a pleasant dinner at our old quarters in the Palais Royal, we went to the Tivoli gardens. The entrance is through a trellis work, covered witii vines, which had a pleasing cfTecl. The place has much resem* f 93 ] blance to Vauxhall Gardens: it is adorned with a multitude of statues, in plaster of Paris, copies of the famous masters. The amusements are more varied than ours. Swings, and coaches running round, with grown people riding in them ; shuttle-cock, at which we saw men and women amuse themselves; conjurers, with wands and long beards 5 slight-of-hand people ; &c. Some were employed in dancing waltzes and cotillons, which continued almost the whole evening ; several good bands of music played at intervals ; there were some very excellent performances both on the tight and slack rope ; but the fire-works, which concluded the whole, were grand and beautiful, far surpassing any at Vauxhall or Sydney Gardens. The place was very much crowded, yet all ap- peared to be conduced with the greatest order and decency. But there is in the French character some- thing peculiarly frivolous ; and I was often reminded of what their countryman Voltaire says of them, that they were a mixture of the monkey and tiger. Kind offices will always win an Englishman's heart, and he will do what he can to serve you. A Frenchman be gging his life of an English officer of my I 9* ] acquaintance, who was going to cut him down, had quarter given him ; but when my friend had withdrawn his sword, the Frenchman fired a pistol in his face ! I am, &c. H. W. [ 9* 1 LETTER XVIIL Dear Sister, June iqtk. T Stated to you in a former letter, that there -*• was here but little observance of the Sab- bath ; that the shops were open, and trade carried on, nearly as on other days, till the afternoon. On the second Sunday after our arri- val, however, in consequence of an order from the Minister of Police, a salutary change was effected. This order begins with observing, that all civilized nations have been in the practice of setting apart one day for religious solemnities; and amongst all christian societies, Sunday has been appreciated in that manner; that laws have passed from the most antient times by their Kings to enforce the observance of it ; and that during their late troubles, a great relaxation of manners has taken place : but that now being restored by kind Providence to the bles- sings of peace, it behoved the French nation to f 96 ] return to their antient respeft for religion and moral virtue, the only source of prosperity for a nation, &c.* Another arret has been published for the performance of the fete de Dieu y which had not been celebrated since the commencement of the Revolution j and an order has been also issued for five different processions of the Host through the principal streets of Paris. We have seen several of these processions to-day ; and they appear to be well attended, and solemnly performed. The streets are hung with ta- pestry, carpets, and cloths of various kind, to give solemnity to the scene. I do not know whether you are acquainted with the nature of it. The Host is carried about under a canopy, borne by priests in white garments, and the people bow and prostrate themselves before it. Every stranger in the street is expected to pull off his hat. Though I am not a friend to superstition, or religious ceremonies in which the mind takes no part, yet I much commended this regulation at the present period, as tending to inspire people with a regard for religion, in the duties of which they have for a long time been very lax. It is to be • See a copy in the. Appendix. f 97 'J considered also, that the Catholic religion is the profession of the country, and this fete tends to reconcile the people to the new order of things. For in times past, while the reformers were destroying superstition and absurdity, they in a great measure rooted up all religion whatever. I have not heard of any resistance or disobe-- dience, and I think it is, under all circumstances,* a very proper ordinance. A French Gentlemanof distinction, with whom we made accidental acquaintance in the Gallery of the Louvre, informed us, that every English- man was free to ascend to the Hall of the ;Thuilleries, through which the King passed to chapel j and if he wear the dress of an Officer, or any uniform with an epaulet, he may appear in the presence chamber. I will here relate to you an anecdote, which I have this day heard. Mademoiselle St. Georges, the actress, was once a cher ami of the late Emperor. She happened in company to mention that her lover was often subject to epileptic seizures ; which story coming to his ears, he banished her from Paris ; and last winter she * I was at Amiens the Sunday after this, and I observed, that it was on that day celebrated there in the same manner, with great seriousness and attention on the part of the people. [ 98 ] was performing at Petersburgh, where she has since repeated the story. Will not this account for his strange condudt of late ? It is said, also, that he is at times under mental derangement. For the last twelvemonths he seemed to have lost the confidence of his Generals. I cannot think, from any thing that I have seen or heard, that there will be any counter- revolution in his favour, as some of the English Papers have insinuated. His date is out. The present government is well supported by the firm and vigqrous management of Talleyrand, Fouche, and Montesquieu. The King is also very amiable in his conduct, and makes no enemies. The Marshals and Generals, andother leading men, are retained intheir posts, enjoying their emoluments. There is in the present government not only the sitaviter in modo, but also the fortiter in re ; and the people at large value the long-lost blessing of peace too much, to risk any other change, and to embark again in a war. I have not mentioned to you my visit to the Opera House, in the Rue de Richlieu, which, in my opinion, is superior to any other of the public places, in point of elegance and performance. Here the dancers are uncommonly excellent : the band likewise is numerous and good. I [ 39 ] noticed five pedal harps, and there is a leader who stands up and beats time to the performers. The piece I saw was very interesting j the story is of Ossian, and the scene lies in the Hebrides. He is the hero of the piece : he is in great distress, and sleeps in the cave of Fingal, upon one of the basaltic columns. A vision appears to comfort him. A cloud passes along j and then appears the view of a mount, like Parnassus \ on the top of which, in the distance, is an antient temple. A storm of thunder and lightning affecls the building, and you see the zig-zag flashes dart upon it repeatedly, with a natural and fine effe£t. Nymphs with garlands descend the mountain; to favour the truth of perspe&ive, little children are dressed as women, and first began descending from the top of the mount, and the figures grow larger as they advance, till some coming on the stage, with garlands in their hands, begin dancing, which follows on different parts of the mountain by nymphs, beautifully grouped, and fancifully dressed; producing a very beautiful and na- tural effeft. I have now mentioned the Opera, the Theatre Frangois, the Odeon, and the Theatre Vaudeville, There are at least ten or twelve more, which we did not visit. Of the public gardens we H 2 ' [ 100 ] visited the Ttvoli and the Wauxhall ; but there are, also, Frescati, La Veillie y Le Jarelin Morbceufi Hameau de Chaiitiily, and three or four others ; for the French cannot Jive without con- stant amusements of this kind, which sufficiently accounts for the frivolity of character prevalent amongst them ; and marks them to be a nation that must yet be ruled by a strong govern- ment. They are still children, and must have the rod of power hanging over them. They are not capable, in my opinion, as I before observed, of enjoying a free and equal government, like our happy one ; and this is one of the many advan- tages of travelling, that we better know how to appreciate the great blessings we enjoy under our own mild government, which we cannot prize too highly, or be too zealous in preserving. " Remember, O my friends, the laws, the rights, " The generous plan of power deliver'd down, " From age to age, by your renown'd forefathers ; " (So dearly bought, the price of so much blood.) " O never let thtm perish in your hands, " But piously trammit them to your children ; " Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our souls, •' And make our lives in thy possession happy, " Or our deaths glorious in thy just defence." am, &q. H. W. C 101 ] LETTER XIX. Paris, June 20. Rev. and Dear Sir, "VTOU wish me to give you some information -*■ respe&ing tbe internal state of France, the general character and disposition of the people, and my opinion of the stability of the new go- vernment. I have not been here long enough to satisfy you on all the points you mention. The French are certainly very civil to Englishmen, and glad to have them once more amongst them. They well recoiled my Lord Anglais in former times, bustling about their country with his pockets full of money. The character of the French nation does not seem to have undergone much change. They appear still to be the same light, trifling, dancing people as ever; not, per- haps, so fond of finery, but pleasure is still their idol. Paris has more than twenty theatres of various kinds open every night, and six or eight public gardens and promenades, which are [ 102 1 always full of company. Vive la bagatelle is still their motto. The wonder to me is, how so frivolous a nation could have made so great an impression on the affairs of Europe, and carried their conquests to such an extent as they have done. The public buildings erected at Paris by the late Emperor are splendid, and the renewal and improvements of some of the decayed palaces are very attractive. The Museums, and particularly the fine collection of statues and paintings in the Louvre, which Napoleon has taken from the conquered countries, flatter the pride of the French j but these things are more for the glory of the individual that caused them, than for the comfort and happiness of the people. Blinded by these acquisitions, they have been induced to support their Emperor in his destructive wars, to the ruin of their finances, the loss of their trade and commerce, which he always despised, and the draining the country of men and money, so repeatedly, that finding themselves quite an exhausted nation, their eyes were at length opened. They began to feel the loss of domestic com- fort in his severe requisitions of their children, one after another, and all these sacrificed for the [ J03 ] sake of glory and conquest no ways necessary to the happiness of France.f An English gentleman who was a prisoner at Saar-louis, near Mentz, for many years, and who was there at the time of the battle of Leipsic, told me that it was a horrid sight to see the many thousands of mutilated and wounded Frenchmen brought to that town in carts, waggons, and in boats down the Moselle. Every + Whenever a new conscription began, every family throughout France trembled ; all classes, all conditions of men, were more or less harassed and afflicted. Guards, informers, and inspectors, certificates, passports, and countersigns, multiplied on every side, and gave the country, for the time, the appearance of a vast prison. You would frequently see a young man with a gens a'arme at his heels ; but look at him two hours after, and you would find him with his thumbs tied together, and sometimes with his armsmanacleoU But this system of rigour was more grievously exercised near the frontiers. The sentinels were there stationed in triple ranks » the whole host of douaniers, or custom-house officers, was charged with the business of scrutinizing the faces as well as searching the pockets. Were not these severe measures enough to create a general distaste to such a severe government ? Are you travelling — you are suddenly stopped in your path. You cannot move on in consequence of a large crowd which blocks up the road; you hear the clanking of chains and the sound of plaintive voices ; you observe an escort of cavalry with drawn sabres. Your attention is at the same time arrested by a group or procession of youths with pale and emaciated countenances, with their heads shaven, dragging fetters and iron bullets, and habited in a frightful costume. On enquiry, you are told these are refractory conscripts and deserters on their way from the depdts pf the departments to a fortress of the interior 1 I loi ] house was obliged to take in as many as it could held, and still the ramparts were full of them, crying out most piteously against the war and the Emperor; and the women joined in cursing him for not putting an end to the war, alluding probably to his rejection of the armistice. This sentiment, from the repetition of such sights, must have become pretty general of late, when the war was brought home to their own doors. Since the Revolution, the French have had no less than five changes of government : first, the Constituent Assembly; next the National Con- vention; then the Directory of Five Kings; the fourth was the Consular Government; and lastly, the Imperial. Their new king is so amiable in his private character, so affable and condescending in his demeanour, and so accessible to the petitions of his subjects, that his paternal love for his people is evident to all. He has also very judiciously retained the marshals, generals, and principal functionaries in their offices and emoluments. Such diplomatic charactersas Talleyrand, Fouche, Baron Louis, and the Abbe Mountesquieu, are equal to all the'exigencies of the state, and will do well for their countrv. [ 105 ] Though the English Papers have stated the existence of great discontents and insubordina- tion in Paris, and that they are likely soon to produce a counter-revolution ; I could not hear of any such. That there are many dissa- tisfied with the new order of things, particu- larly among the military, there is no doubt; and we may expect to hear of partial insurrec- tions and commotions among the men re- turned from the wars. Men bred in a camp, and long inured to plunder, cannot very soon return to habits of industry. But a government that employs men of such approved talents as those I have mentioned, will not be easily overturned; particularly as the leaders of the armv are with the Court : A^nd as to the return of Napoleon, he has run the full length of his tether ; you will hear no more of kis rule in France. The new government has a great deal to do, before the wheels of the state can go on smoothly. The confusion of public accounts, and the ex- hausted state of the finances, will require a long period of peace to rectify. The people, however, have obtained some considerable privileges by the comja£t they have formed with Louis XV. li. ; a mix.d gove nment or three estates* King, Nobles, and Commons, or body of deputies [ 106 1 as they are called, but in effect, a representative body of the people. They have also the trial by jury, and a free press ; though the latter, in the present unsettled state of affairs, requires some temporary limitation. But they seem to have made no stipulations for two other important privileges, which Englishmen value,-— the Habeas Corpus, and the limitation of punish- ment to the degree of guilt. These we have found of the greatest consequence against the oppression of arbitrary power, when party spirit has run high. The Code Napoleon is an admirable composition ; a great deal of it, however, is more speculative than practical ; and some al- terations will be necessary : but, after all, it will not do for Frenchmen, who, I think, are not capable of enjoying a free government ; their temper and disposition requires the strong hand of power to keep them in order. We leave Paris to-morrow, and return by the old conveyance of the diligence, which will be 48 hours in taking us 177 miles, the distance be. tween Paris and Calais. A postilion in jack boots is to sit upon one of the wheel horses, and by continued smacks of the whip he is to urge on three other horses that run abreast, and which are attached by chains and knotted cords [ w ] to our vehicle. We are to be six insides, who are to pay three Napoleons each for the convey- ance of our persons to the celebrated gates of Calais. Hoping ere long to see you in England, I remain, my dear sir, Your affectionate friend, H. W, P. S. One good arises from travelling into fo- reign countries, — an opportunity of appreciating the value of our own. I shall therefore con- clude with a quotation from your favourite poet : " England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, " My country ! and while yet a nook is left, " Where English minds and manners may be found, u Shall be constraint to love thee. Though thy clime " Be fickle, and thy year so much deform'd " With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost} " I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, " And fields without a fiow'r, for warmer France ."With allJier vines.'' I 10* ) LETTER XX. Dear Sister, Calais, June 21. OUR journey to Paris was by the route of Dieppe and Rouen. We determined to vary our return, by passing through Chantilly, Clermont, Breteuil, Amiens, and Abbeville. We took our places in the old diligence j because, though a very tedious conveyance, it suited our views. We each paid three Napoleons. The distance is only 177 miles, and we were forty- eight hours on the road without resting, except during two dinners. Five horses, three of them abreast in front, and the postilion riding one of the wheel horses, conveyed us, twelve passengers, at the rate of only 3^ miles in an hour, which tired us completely. But I will give you a short detail of our occurrences. After passing St. Denis, (once a royal city,) we came to Chantilly, the seat of the Prince of Conde, and stopped at the Hotel d'Angleterre, [ 109 ] an excellent Inn, about a mile from the residence. A triumphal arch still remained here, ere6ted to honour Louis XVIII. who in his way from England passed through it. Prince Constantine was lately entertained here by the Prince, and after the feast was ended, a curtain was drawn up, and discovered 300 horses at rack and man- ger ; so that they had actually dined in the stables: they are the handsomest and. largest in. France. The superb chateau was destroyed during the Revolution. At Clermont is a manufactory of linen cloth, but it is not very flourishing. The culture of the vines give an interesting feature to the country. Near Clermont is Liancourt, the magnificent seat of the Duke de la Roche- foucaulr. The country between this and Breteuil was flat and uninteresting. Night came on, so we saw no more of the country till near Amiens, about 66 miles from Pari"; We here stopped at a very excellent Inn, newly fitted up for the reception of his Majesty. On the paper of the room was delineated very neatly all the handsome buildings in Paris, many of which were new to the King himself, having been ete&ed since he left it, and others much improved. In this respect, Bonaparte has much [ "0 ] improved his good city of Paris. At this Inn I met an English family of my acquaintance, whom I well knew at Cheltenham, (a Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,) to whom I gave some useful information. They had their own carriage, and were going first to Paris, and then on to Switzerland. The Cathedral is a beautiful Gothic building, and has many fine monuments, and alto relievos of sacred history. It was built by the English in the time of Henry Vlth, under the direction of the Duke of Bedford, then regent. Amiens is situated on the river Somme, and a very pleasant town for an English residence, It has two handsome squares, and many very good houses. Provisions are said to be very cheap here ; a family may keep a carriage, and live in a very handsome style, for 300I. a year. There is a pleasant walk, which I noticed round the ramparts, looking down on the river, and ornamented with fine trees. The treaty of peace in 1802 was signed here. At Abbeville we dined at the Tete dc Bosnf, There was a considerable cloth manufaflury formerly carried on at this place, which is about forty miles from Amiens, by the family of Van Robais. I enquired of a man, who r J" i had lived thirty years with a branch of that family. He informed me, that the manufac- ture is almost dwindled to nothing: (he war of the Revolution ruined M. Robais' affairs, and he became a bankrupt. Many dilapi- dated churches appeared here, and the town (though pleasant) is gone much to decay. We entered Montreuil in the night ; it is a strong fortified place, and we were obliged to wait a long time before the portcullisses were raised, and the bridges let down ; for they still observe this unnecessary form. Here four out of five churches, including that of Notredame, a very fine building, have been destroyed. We slept (at least J did) till we came to Boulogne, where we breakfasted, and walked over the lower town. The upper is situated on a hill, and is fortified. The high tower that makes such a figure from the English coast, is a sham, and a mere frame-work, only calculated for a prospect. The town is a very poor one, and but of little defence, except the difficulty of working into the harbour. The fat-bottomed boats are in the inner harbour, all failing to pieces. They shew you an old earth work, called Casars camp. Another camp was formed on the top of the hill by Bonaparte, and strongly entrenched, capable f 112 ] of holding 10,000 men ; but it was merely for shew, and to alarm John Bull. Here our pass- ports were called for, and examined. Our old ones did very well, and would, I dare say, serve for a second journey ; for it appears to be a mere matter of form, to get ten shillings from you, in case you appear without one. We were pestered with a multitude of beggars wherever we stopped, and passed large parties of prisoners returning home. The Captain of a packet came in to us while at breakfast, and offered to convey us to Dover ; but the wind was contrary, and though it might save us some distance, we preferred seeing Calais first. On our road to Calais, we noticed a large crucifix standing by the side of the road. Dessein no longer keeps the principal Inn ; lie is retired from business, but it is still conti- nued by another. We went to the other principal Inn, (the White Horse, I think,) where we got a very excellent dinner, and civil treatment. The gates of Calais, as depicled by Hogarth in his famous picture, still remain the same. I here learnt that some of our passengers had taken their places all the way from Paris to London, for which they paid ^1. 1 bought some [ »13 ] silk articles very cheap, at a tradesman's at Calais, who always asks the lowest price he will take. It is not so in the Palais Royal. I was there asked thirty Francs for an article, and upon my. demurring a little, the marchande sunk his demand to twenty. We are now got on board, impatient to reach England, although wind and tide were both against us. We tacked every five minutes, which produced sea sickness in half our com- pany. The distance is only 26 miles, and we were more than eight hours in crossing. Yours, affectionately, H. W. P. S. Having given you a slight sketch of Paris ; also of the province of Normandy in my way to it, and of Picardy on my return from it ; before I conclude my letter, I shall add the general observations I have been led to make. In all this tract of nearly 300 miles^ I did not see twenty country-houses ; whereas, in the 1 - [ 114 ] same space, travelling in England, I should have passed 300 at least, of the description I mean. In this respect, our country takes the lead of all the world. Here from the freedom of our constitution, and the patronage given to every ingenious invention, men of talent have every encouragement to advance their fortunes, and the field is open to all. There are no such long ladders in any other countries ; the adven- turers can only gain to a certain height. When a man by successful industry, in this country, has acquired an ample fortune, his next step is to retire into the country, and build a house. Here genius is encouraged also to come forward, and produce a variety of excellent designs, and the utmost taste and elegance are sought after. We have many cafiability Brownt in these days ; and taste has been wonderfully im- proved, in both our gentlemen and artists, from the annual exhibitions, at Somerset House, of the most elegant designs for villas, temples, bridges, hot-houses, grounds, and mansion-houses. This taste is now so generally cultivated in England, that it is the admiration of foreigners ; and the Emperor of Russia, in his late visit, is said to have called ours a country of Princes* and Merchants* palaces, . [ "5 ] Throughout my journey from Dieppe to Paris, I did not see five houses of this description.* In the vicinity of Maloni, where the cotton manufactory is established, there were some symptoms of this kind of improvement going on, for there was the spirit of industry. There is at present in France a great want of the middle man in society ; the working bee of the hive was destroyed by the late militaiy government, and it will be the work of years to restore him. This class of subjects is the grand cement of society. In France there is no such union or gradation of ranks in society as in England : and a poor man must not presume to talk familiarly with his superiors. In England it was formerly the same ; a tradesman would hardly speak to the squire of the place, and the squire was bashful before a parliament man or a knight : a Lord would hold himself high at any public meeting he condescended to appear at ; and every word and action was watched, to be commented on and admired. This remnant of the feudal system is happily abolished with us. Now * I noticed a few Caftles and Chateaus, which give you the idea of superior splendour and lonely magnificence ; but not of the comforts and elegancies surrounding country mansions in our happy country I 2, r »6 ] tve sec Noblemen advancing their fortunes by tradeand commerce, and by investingtheircapital in mines and navigations j and the humble shop- keeper, from industry and a good education, will sometimes step from behind the counter into the best society, and oftentimes become a good and useful Member of the House of Commons. This encouragement brings all classes of society near together, and tends to the general advan- tage. A liberal education is now common amongst the middling classes of society, who formerly wereinstructed in little else thanpounds, shillings, and pence. In France the houses are verv deficient in elegant furniture j even mahogany is not common. There is but little encouragement, therefore, for artists in this class. How different is the case in England j every tradesman is ambitious of having credit for some judgment in these things. This taste seems to arise, not merely as the natural result of affluence, but from the custom in England, on the death or removal of the head of a great family, to have an auclion on the premises. The houses arc thrown open to the inspection and critical observation of all ranks in society, and this produces a general taste [ "7 ] and relish for the high and more refined ele- gancies of life. With respett to canals, those great sources of wealth and usefulness to arts and agriculture in this country, I saw very few in my journey. The principal was at Pecquigny, where I noticed a very good towing-path, but no vessels with masts of any kind. The canal d'Ourcq, near Paris, is more of the nature of the New River, than for navigation, as it supplies the metro- polis with fine clear water. When I was at the fortified town of Montreuil, I wished much to have visited the neighbouring fields of Agincourt and Cressy, where our coun- trymen, under the fifth Harry and the Black Prince,' reaped such laurels ; but I had taken my place in the diligence all the way to Calais. I would, however, recommend every one, who feels an interest in the glory of his country, to take a place only to this town or Abbeville, from which last city Cressy is only ten miles distant, and Abbeville itself is worth devoting a day to see. At this place I learnt that the price of wheat was only seven francs per cwt.; four francs for the same quantity of oats and barley j and bread three sous a pound. We fared very [ US 1 well and reasonable at an Inn, the sign of which was the Tete de Bceuf. It was mentioned in the London papers, at the time we were there, that Paris contained ten or twelve thousand English. This was a great mistake, for according to our calculation, and our meeting the same persons often, it appeared that there were not above four or five hundred. Few stay longer than a fortnight, or three weeks : and I do not think, though many are continually going backwards and forwards, that any considerable number will winter there, where you see only wood fires, and brick floors to the very attics. It is remarkable that Seneca speaking of the Corsicans, draws the following character of them in his days, vyhich I shall mention, though I am an enemy myself to such general refleclions ; Prima lex, - - - mentire. Secunda, - - ulcisse, Tertia, - - negare Deos. Et quarta, - - - vivere rapto. The last reminds me of a Latin anagram on the name of Bonaparte, which he seems most impli- citly to have complied with : Lcena pone bona rapta. [ 119 ] I shall conclude with an anecdote of him, related to me by Dr. Bate, who knew him well before his high destinies. Dr. B. was engaged by the Imperial family at Vienna to teach them the English language ; this was in the year 1791. He used to say, he could never teach the Archduke Charles to pro- nounce thunder, thief, third, or Themistocles, his Highness always substituting the d for the th. Dr. Bate left Vienna early in the spring of the following year, crossed the Alps and went to Rome, where he became a member of the Dilletante club, or as some called it the Transal- pine club, no one being admitted who had not passed the Alps more than once. Amongst the members were Barras, the great friend of Bonaparte's fortunes, the famous Count Cagli- ostro, Salicetti, and Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte ; the latter was then on half-pay. Napoleon, at supper one evening, asked Dr. B.'s opinion «about going into the English service; and the Doctor advised him against it, by saying, that he would probably never get beyond the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and perhaps would be sent to the West-Indies to die of the yellow fever. This conversation probably determined his choicej for he from this time attached himself [ 120 1 to Barras, whose mistress he is said to have married, which was the foundation of his fortunes. This happened before the French Revolution had made much progress, and before the battle of Jemappe was fought. Well may we exclaim, in the words of our divine bard, "Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, " When our deep plots do fail j and that should teach us, " There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, %t Rcugh hew them how we will." Or else we may conjecture, and conclude, with Pope, " If plagues and earthquakes break not Heav'n's design, " Why then a Borgia or a Cataline ? " Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms, " Who shakes old ocean, and directs his storms, " Gave fierce ambition to Napoleon's mind, " Then sent young Emperors forth to bless mankind." [ m ] APPENDIX. General Order of the Police, concerning the observance of Sunday, and Holidays. T7T7E, Director General of the policeof the kingdom, considering that the observance of the days consecrated to religious solemnities is a law common to all civilized nations, even from the earliest infancy of the world, and which equally interests religion and politics : that the observance of the Sunday is regarded with a pious solemnity throughout all Christendom; and that it has been provided for in general, and for France in particular, by different orders of our Kings, and decrees of the Sovereign Courts, the last of which was the order of the 8th November 1782 : and considering that these laws and regulations have never been repealed, but only lost sight of during the troubles: that if they were virtually recalled by the laws of the 18th and 29th Germinal of the year 10, yet they re-established the observance of the Sunday and the I 122 ] Holidays, though reduced to a very small number : and that it is necessary now to publish explicitly the tame regulations, in order to testify to the world the return of the French to their antient respect for religion and good morals, and to the practice of virtue, which can alone establish durable prosperity for a nation: We order as follows, Article 1 . All works shall be suspended on Sundays and the Holidays. In consequence whereof, it is hereby prohibited to all masons, carpenters, tilen, paviours, joiners, locksmiths, and in general to all artizans and workmen, to work at their respective occupations ; and to all tradesmen to engage in any "business, or deliver in goods, on Sundays or Holidays. They are ordered to keep their workshops, shops, and warehouses, strictly shut, under a penalty of 200 francs for every offence ; and masters shall be responsible for the acts of their boys, workmen, and servants. .2. It is equally prohibited to all porters to work at their employments upon the above days. Carmen and coachmen shall not take any load, under penalty of 100 francs; and their horses and harness, carts, coaches, or sledges, shall be detained as security for the payment, 3. No individuals shall, during the above days, employ any workmen, under pain of being personally responsible for the penalties which they may incur. 4. It is equally prohibited to all dealers in haber- dashery, hardware, ironmongery; to all sellers and [ 123 ] dealers in pictures, images, or old books, and to all stall-keepers without exception, to hawk about their goods, or expose them for sale, on the above days, under pain of the loss of their goods, and a fine of 100 francs. 5. It is expressly ordered, that all dealers in wine, masters of coffee-houses or of places called estaminets, .brandy, beer, and cider merchants, owners of billiard- tables^and tenis-courts, shall keep their shops, houses, or establishments, shut upon Sundays and Holidays, during the time of divine service, viz. from eight o'clock A- M. till noon ; and that they shall refuse admission to all those who present themselves during that time, in order to eat, drink, or play; under a penalty of 300 francs. 6. It is prohibited to all mountebanks, tumblers keepers of curiosities, singers, or players upon instru- ments, to exercise their callings in the booths, or in the streets, upon the .above days, before five o'clock in the afternoon, under pain of interdiction. 7. No assemblage of persons for dancing or music shall take place before the same hour in any building open£o the public, under pain of forfeiting 500 franca by the master of the house. 8. Apothecaries, herb dealers, grocers, bakers, but- chers, charcoal dealers, cooks, pastry-cooks, may keep their shops half open on the above days; but they are forbidden to expose their goods to public view. 9. These restrictions are not applicable to workmen employed bv farmers in the days of harvest, when the state of the weather is urgent or uncertain. [ 124 ] 10. The same privilege shall be allowed to the works of individuals, that are obliged to be executed in cases of imminent peril; but they cannot be perforinedbn those days, without the permission of an officer of the police. 11. Offenders against these orders will be prosecuted by legal information, and such measures will be taken against them by the administrators of the police as shall be judged proper, without prejudice to any pro- ceedings issued against them by the courts of law. 12. This present decree shall be printed, published, and posted up throughout the kingdom. IS, The prefects, sub-prefects, and under them the commissioners of the police, and the peace officers, are charged with execution of this order. Given at our Hotel> 7th June, 1814, The Director General, (Signed,) COUNT BEUGNOT. By his Excellence the Secretary General, (Signed,) SAULNIER. C 125 ] A Calendar of some of the most important Events connected with the French Revolution. 1785. THE Parliament of Paris passed a resolution, reflecting upon the want of ceconomy in the government; and complaining of the had state of the finances, and of the conduct of M'Calonne. 1786. The Parliament was banished, but afterwards recalled. 1787. The King called together the Assembly of the Notables, 29th January. This assembly could not remedy the evils, but recommended the measure of summoning an Assembly of the States General. 1789. This Body met, and assumed the name of the National Assembly. July 14. The mob rose, and destroyed the Bastile. July 15. The King received the National cockade, from Bailie, the mayor of Paris. 1790. July 14. A General Confederation held in the Champ de Mars, to swear allegiance to the new Constitution, the Nation, the Law, and the King. 1791. June 20. The King and Queen attempted to escape. 1792. July 25. The Duke of Brunswick issued his Manifesto. f 126 ] 1792. August 9 and 10. The Thuilleries stormed, and the Swiss guards murdered. September 20. France declared to be a Republic* 1793. January 21. The death of Louis the XVIth. December. Bonaparte first known at the siege and capture of Toulon. 1794. December. Robespierre guillotined. 1795.-The Directory Governmentconstituted of five men. The French under Pichegru conquer Holland. 1 796. The cruel war in La Vendee. 1797. The command of the Italian army given to Bonaparte. 1798. The French under Bonaparte conquer Italy. 1799. November 25. Bonaparte installed one of the three Consuls. 1803. May 18. Bonaparte elected Emperor of the Gauls. 1805. April 24. He is crowned King of Italy. 1810. He is divorced from Josephine, and married to Louisa Archduchess of Austria. 1812. November. Bonaparte defeated, and driven back from Moscow. 1-813. Bonaparte defeated, and driven back from Leipsic. 1814. March 30. The Allies took Paris, and dethroned Bonaparte. April 3. Bonaparte allowed to retain the sove- reignty of the Isle of Elba, with the title of Emperor. May. The Bourbon Family restored to the Throne of France. r w i Two favourite Songs generally called for at the Theatres at Paris. CHARMANTE Gabrielle ! perce de inille dards, Quand la gloire m'appelle sous les drapeaux de Mars; Cruelle dementi, malheureux jours, Que ne suis je sans vie ou sans amour. VIVE Henri quatre ! Vive ce Hoi vaillant! Ce diable a quatre A le triple talent, De boire, et de battre, Et d'etre un verd gallant. Chantons l'antienne, Qu'on chantra dans mille a&f* Que Dieu maintienne ? Lui et ses descendans, Jusq' a ce qu'on preune X«a lune avec les dents. [ 1*8 ] J'aimons les filles, Et j'aimons le bon vin. De nos bons drilles Voila tout le refrain, J'aimons les filles, £t j'aimons le bon vin. Moius de soudrilles Eussent trouble le sein De nos families, Si ligueur plus humain, Eut aime les filles, Eut aime le bon vin. AS a principal object wjth many persons in visiting Paris, is to view the superb collection of paintings in the Louvre gallery ; I subjoin a table of the Scale of Merit of twenty-four of the most eminent painters, as laid down by Monsieur Depile. . Albert Durer Composition. 8 Design. 10 Colouring. 10 Expression. 8 Andre del Sarto 12 10 8 ttourdonne 10 3 8 4 Le Brun 16 15 8 16 The Caracci 15 17 13 13 Corregio 13 13 15 12 Dominicain 15 17 9 17 Gorgion 8 9 18 4 [ 129 ] Composition. Design. Colouring. Expression. Le Guerchin 18 10 10 4 Guido reni n 16 13 9 12 Hoi ben 9 10 16 13 Luca Giordano 13 12 9 6 Julio Romano 15 16 4 14 Leonard de Vinci 15 16 4 14 Michael Angelo 8 17 4 8 Le Parmesan 10 15 6 6 Poussin 15 17 6 15 Raphael 17 18 12 18 Rembrandt 15 6 17 12 Rubens 18 13 17 17 Teniers 15 12 13 6 Tintoret 15 14 16 4 Titian 12 15 18 > 6 Vandvck 15 10 17 13 Printed by Richard Crnttwell, St. Jamej's-Street, Bath. - LETTER $arts, TO GEORGE PETRE, ESQ. BY THE REVEREND JOHN CHETWODE EUSTACE. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. MAWMAN, 39, LUDGATE STREET. 1814. BARN1K9 «*D riKLCT, •Winner i •;««(, i.ni»a. During the Month of June last, Lord Carrington was so very obliging as to invite the Author of the following pages to accompany him in an excursion to Paris; this kind Invitation was con- veyed in Terms too flattering to be refused. The Reflections now communicated to the Public were made during the Excursion ; and were addressed to an intimate Friend who had requested some Account of the French Capital. Mr. Eustace cannot close this short Notice, without begging Lord Carrington to accept his cordial Acknow- ledgments for the constant Attention with which his Lordship was pleased to honor him during this little Tour. The Earl of 2 Essex will permit the Author to join his Name to that of his noble Friend, and to record his Politeness and good Humour on the same Occasion. August, 1814. LETTER FROM PARIS. MY DEAR FRIEND, An compliance with your request at our last interview, I will now give you an account of the principal observations which I have been induced to make, during my progress through the northern provinces of France, and my stay in the capital. The subject is extensive, and, I fear, that to do it justice more leisure, than I can command, is necessary. To such reflec- tions, however, as I have made, you have a right, and I will proceed to state them simply, and in the order in which they occurred. France, during the space of twenty-four years, has passed through all the gradations of revolu- tion and rebellion, of civil and external war, of anarchy an* 1 despotism, of republican and military government. In the progress of revo- lutionary madness, a plan was formed the most daring and the most sacrilegious ever conceived, of annihilating all the institutions of thirty mil- lion of people ; of suppressing all that had pre- viously existed, and replacing the whole reli- gious and civil system, by new and unauthor- ized whims and theories. Thus an attempt was made to strike out one link in the chain of ge- nerations, to separate manfrom his God and his ancestors, to deprive him of all the lights of history, and all the benefits of experience, and to let him loose upon himself and his fellow creatures, untutored, undisciplined, without any guide but passion, any impulse but in- terest. In order to realize this project of gigan- tic atheism, France was first detached from the European republic ; the associated firm of Christian and civilized states ; its religious in- stitutions, its universities, schools, and acade- mies, its abbies and hospitals were suppressed ; its parliaments and courts of justice, its customs and its laws were abolished ; its armies were dissolved, reorganized, new modelled, new named ; its banners, which had so often led its le- gions to victory, and had waved with honor in every quarter of the globe, were trampled upon, and its orijlamme, the proud standard of its mo- narchs, the object of the love and the adoration of every French soldier, announcing by the lilies of gold on the argent field, the honor, the gentle- ness and the gallantry of the monarch and of his knights, the oriflamme was consigned to revo- lutionary fire, and succeeded by the tawdry tri- color of the republic, and the rapacious eagle of the empire. This system of complete disorgani- zation was carried on through every period and by every party that succeeded each other dur- ing the whole revolution; sometimes indeed with less publicity, but always with equal art and perseverance. To trace the effects of such a system operating for a considerable time on a country of such extent and population, is part of the occupation of a traveller, who looks beyond mere amusement, and endeavours to turn the excursion of the season to some per- manent advantage. With this object in view, you will peruse the following observations. b 2 The scenery of France, as that of the con- tinent in general, is upon a larger scale than the scenery of England. The vales spread wider; the hills form more extensive swells ; there are no hedges or divisions; and the trees are either collected in clumps and masses round the vil- lages, or form large woods and forests that sweep over hills and dales, and sometimes shade the whole horizon with a dark border. The roads are generally lined either with fruit trees, or lofty elms, sometimes in double and triple rows. These rows, however, as there are no fences, do not obstruct the view ; and the eye may gene- rally range over an immense tract of plains and hills, of wood and tillage, and not unfrequently expatiate over an ocean of corn waving for miles around without interruption, and present- ing no other variety than the tints which its own motion and the passing clouds cast over it. Cultivation, if we except the neighbourhood of Paris, seems to have been carried on every- where with the utmost vigor ; and not a spot of earth appears to have escaped the vigilance and the industry of the husbandman.* Roads wide, straight, generally paved in the middle, and always excellent, intersect this scene of fertility, and conduct the traveller from post to post with ease and rapidity. The towns are generally well-built, and far su- perior to our country towns in stateliness and so- lidity. Some contain magnificent monuments of the grandeur of ancient France. Such is the church of St. Wulfrid at Abbeville ; the cele- brated cathedral of Amiens ; and the stables of the chateau at Chantilly. The front of the first, with its two towers, numberless niches and statues, with all their accompaniments of fretwork and carving, affords a most beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture in its richest style. The second, owing to the zeal and the good disposition of the people of Amiens, has * I speak here not of the real but of the apparent cultiva- tion. I suspect that our English farmers would discover much bad husbandry : the breed of cattle, of sheep, of swine, is most strikingly bad ; and the quantity of stock very small indeed. An observation which, however, I do not mean to extend beyond the country between Calais and Paris. survived the storms of atheistic fanaticism, and still retains all its original perfection, and all the beauty of holiness. The third, erected in the time of Lewis the Fourteenth, ex- hibits in its magnitude, its proportion, and its decorations, all the stateliness and the majesty of that triumphant aera of French history. So far the picture is pleasing ; but its colors will lose much of their brilliancy when I inform you, that the villages and towns are crowded with beggars, and that whenever you stop, your carriage is instantly surrounded with a groupe of objects the most miserable and disgusting. In a country where the poor and the dis- tressed are abandoned to the charity of indi- viduals, the number of mendicants must be greater than in one where public provision is made for the suffering class: this is true; yet the number, who in France fall under that de- nomination, seems to me far beyond the usual proportion, especially as idleness in a country so well cultivated, can scarcely be the cause of such poverty; nor is it a mere pretence em- ployed to extort donations, as the haggard looks, the nakedness, and oftentimes the ulcers and the deformities of the claimants too clearly prove its reality. In truth, there is great poverty in France ; and however fertile the soil, a very small portion of its produce seems to fall to the lot of the common people. But, besides this poverty, there is also a great appearance of depopulation. The signs of this depopulation, are the ruinous state of many, or rather, most, of the towns. The bustle and acti- vity of life seems confined to the market-place, and its immediate vicinity ; the more remote streets, and the skirts of the towns, are scarcely, and at best very thinly, inhabited. Most of the large houses seem abandoned, and in a state of dilapidation ; while the convents, the colleges, and other pious establishments, untenanted and in ruin, seem as if abandoned to the shades of their former possessors, and left to reproach the present, and to menace the future generation. The chateaus have in many places shared the fate of their contemporary abbies ; and like them, have been destroyed, or left to moulder in gradual decay. The villages, formerly en- livened by the presence of their lords, whether laymen or monks, and enriched by their ex- penditure, now pine in want and silence ; the cottages are ill-repaired ; the employment of the peasants is irregular, and consequently their maintenance is precarious. The con- scription came to fill up the measure of their sufferings, and to complete the depopulation of the country ; and when you are informed, that in the space of two years, one million five hundred thousand men were levied in France, or sent from her frontiers, you will not be surprised at her present depopulation. You will naturally ask, how the country can be so well cultivated, if the population be so much diminished ? The question is natural, but not difficult to answer. The farmers as- sure you, that the operations of agriculture are carried on by old men, women, and children ; and few, indeed, of any other description are to be seen, either in the fields, on the roads, or in public places. These exertions, prema* ture in boys, and misplaced in women, must not only check the growth of the rising genera- tion, but eventually degrade the sex, whose virtues are principally domestic, and whose charms shed their best influence around the fire-side, and give to home all its attractions. Add to this evil, another of equal magnitude ; employment of children in their infancy, by calling them away from home, withdraws them from the control, and deprives them of the in- structions and the example of their mothers, instructions and example of all others the most important, because to them the infant owes the first ideas of decency, the first emotions of piety, the sentiments and the manners that raise the citi- zen above the savage, the Christian above the barbarian. To deprive children, therefore, of this early tuition, and to let them loose unre- strained in the fields, is to abandon them to the innate corruption of their own hearts, and to fit them beforehand for guilt and profligacy. Accordingly, vice and ferocity seem im- printed on the countenances of many of the rising generation ; and have effaced those fea- tures of joy and good humour, and that merry grimace, which was supposed to characterize even the infants of ancient France. You are now probably prepared to hear with- out astonishment, that there are supposed to 10 be at present twelve women to one effective man. The country by no means improves as you approach Paris. The post next to it is St. Denis, a little town remarkable for two churches, the one a very handsome modern structure, the other the ancient and venerable abbey, which gave its name to the town that gradually rose around it, and flourished under its patronage, it was founded in honor of the martyred bishop Dionysius the apostle of Gaul, by Dagobert, a prince of the Merovingian race ; and was thus almost coeval with the monarchy. Its abbots distinguished themselves by their talents and their integrity, during many an eventful year ; and so interwoven was its history with that of the country, that the annals of St. Denis be- came the records of France. It was honored in a particular manner by the royal family, and was from its foundation the mausoleum of the sovereigns of France. It was at an early period burned by the Normans in one of their preda- tory inroads, but restored with increased magni- ficence, and sometime after rebuilt in its present form by Suger, the celebrated abbot, who govern- 11 ed France as regent in the absence of St. Lewis. Its decorations, as may easily be supposed, were worthy its antiquity and high destination; and fretted vaults, and storied windows, and rich shrines, and marble altars, combined their influence to heighten its majesty, and to awe and delight the spectator. It was served by a numerous fraternity of learned and holy monks; fumes of incense ascended daily from its altars ; and morning, noon, and night, the tones of the organ, and the notes of the choir, echoed from its vaults. Such was St. Denis in its glory ; and such I beheld it in the year 1790. In 1802, I revisited it. The ruins of the abbey strewed the ground. The church stood stript and profaned ; the wind roared through the unglazed windows, and murmured round the vaults; the rain dropt from the roof, and deluged the pavement; the royal dead had been torn from the repositories of departed greatness; the bones of heroes had been made the play- things of children, and the dust of monarchs had been scattered to the wind. The clock alone remained in the tower, tolling every 19 quarter, as if to measure the time permitted to the abomination of desolation, and to record each repeated act of sacrilege and impiety. The inhabitants of the town made representa- tions to Buonaparte on the subject, and were flat- tered with hopes and promises. Still, however, reparations were neglected, and the progress of ruin was rapid. At length, the Emperor under- took what the First Consul had neglected ; St. Denis was destined to receive the ashes of the im- perial dynasty ; and orders were issued to render it worthy in every respect of the honors that await- ed it. The royal vaults were cleared, repaired, and in many respects considerably improved. The subterraneous chapels were re-established and three of them fitted up with exquisite taste and devoted to the memory of the pre- ceding dynasties. In these chapels, prayers were daily offered up for the repose of the Me- rovingian, Carlovingian, and Capetian princes.* * The altars (called Autth expiatoires) were afterwards removed by order of Buonaparte, in consequence, it is said, 13 The reparation is continued under the royal auspices ; and excepting the stained windows, the loss of which is irreparable, the church of pf an academical squabble. An author well known for his talents, his eloquence, and his honorable attachment to re- ligion, was chosen a member of the Institute The new mem- ber is obliged by custom to pronounce, on his admittance, the funeral oration, or rather the panegyric of his deceased predecessor ; a task of great delicacy always, and sometimes of considerable difficulty. It was peculiarly so, it seems, on the present occasion. The deceased academician had indulged himself in some philosophic invectives against Christianity ; and his successor thought himself obliged to notice and condemn his conduct in this respect. The pre- sident of the Institut, to whom it is customary to commu- nicate the discourses to be delivered on such occasions, re- fused his sanction. Chateaubriand was too spirited to con- sent to any omission ; and in the course of the altercation that ensued, employed the following remarkable expression, Si on me reproche comme un crime d'avoir loue" les Bour- dons, je me refugierai sous les autels expiatoircs de St. De- nis. The dispute was communicated to Buonaparte, who, with apparent indifference, merely exclaimed, Chateaubriand a tort. The expiatory altars disappeared shortly after. 14 St. Denis will probably resume, ere long, its ancient majesty. The road from St. Denis to Paris is over a sandy plain, which, from its solitude and neg- • lected cultivation, appears far remote from a populous capital. Mont Martre (Mons Martis, Mons. Martyrum) rises on the right of the tra- veller, who enters by the Porte St. Denis. This hill is of no great elevation, and no beauty ; it is neither shaded by groves, nor adorned with villas. Seven or eight windmills rise on its ridge, and whisk round as if engaged in a con- test of rapidity. Windmills when single, and rising above a skreen of wood, or near the spire of a village, please the eye, because they con- trast with the stillness of the scene, and give animation to the picture; but when presented full length, and drawn up in regiments in the immediate neighbourhood of a great city, they form a vry graceless and unpromising accom- paniment. In the suburbs of Paris, the streets are well built and wide; but they are thinly in- habited, and silent; very different in this re- spect from the- glow of life, the motion, the \5 fermentation that pervade the vicinity of Lon- don, and spread so widely over the whole sur- rounding country. We crossed the Boulevards, and entered by the Porte St. Denis, a triumphal arch, erected in honor of Lewis the Fourteenth ; it derives more dignity from its mass than grace or beaut}' from its ornaments and proportions. We then entered a long narrow street, with high houses on each side, a stream of black mire in the mid- dle, and stench and noisomeness all around. Such, indeed, are the streets of Paris in gene- ral, narrow, dark, and disgusting. Of this city, I will now endeavour to give you a general idea. Paris stands upon the Seine, which divides it into two parts nearly equal, and forms three islands in its windings. The breadth of the river may be about that of the Thames at Richmond ; though it appears wider, because the stone quays that border it are raised at a considerable distance from the bed of the river. The length of the town, that is, its extent along the river, may be about four miles and a half; its breadth, from the Barrieres St. Denis 3 16 to the Barrieres St. Jacques, about three miles and a half. The new walls, or those erected a little before the revolution, enclose a very considerable space of ground, uninhabited, and sometimes under tillage ; hence the real extent of the city is very different from its apparent magnitude. The Fauxbourgs are in general very thinly inhabited, and that of St. Marcel, St. Jacques, St. Antoine, St. Germain, are nearly deserted. By fauxbourgs you are to understand, not the suburbs, or the streets out of the walls, but the space enclosed between the ancient ram- parts, now called Boulevards, and the new wall, or later circumference. This depopula- tion may be occasioned principally by the exile or the impoverishment of the higher classes, and by the suppression of colleges, and eccle- siastical establishments, the two great sources which fed and enriched the inhabitants of the exterior quarters of Paris ; and in former times gave them a great appearance of life and prosperity. Notwithstanding the filthy and dis- gusting appearance of the streets, there are 17 many handsome edifices, some fine streets, and one of the twelve districts, into which the city- is divided, is splendid in a degree rarely equal- led. The quarter to which I allude, is that which embraces the Louvre and the Tuilleries, with all their accompaniments, and thus in- cludes nearly all the beauty and all the magni- ficence of Paris. Every town has its particular and characteristic feature ; and the royal palace with its superb vicinity, forms very appropriately the principal feature of the capital of so ancient and so glorious a monarchy. The traveller who enters Paris by the Barrieres de Neuilly, which stand on an eminence, and look down upon the scene to which I allude, will behold it to the greatest advantage. As he descends through a long and straight avenue, he crosses first the Champs Elysees, a grove of trees neither lofty nor spreading, but pretty and refreshing from their numbers ; then the Place Louis Quinze (de la Concorde) bounded on the right by the quay and river, on the left by two long and lofty edifices fronted with very handsome Corinthian colonnades ; and in front, by the c 18 terrace and gate of the gardens of the Tuilleries. The centre of the Place Louis Quinze,* exhibits one of the noblest views in Paris, terminating in front in the palace of the Tuilleries, seen through the grand alley ; behind, in the tri- umphal arch and Barrieres de Neuilly, through the perspective of a long avenue ; while on the one side the Rue Royale, a short but wide and noble street, terminates in the new church of the Madelaine ;f and on the other side, the eye glancing over the new bridge, de Louis Seized rests on the graceful colonnade that forms the facade of the palace of the Corps Legislatif. This colonnade is supported by a bold flight of steps, consists of twelve Corinthian columns, is surmounted by a well proportioned pediment, and is, perhaps, on the whole, of all modern edifices, that which borders nearest in appear- ance and effect upon the antique. It would have been considerably improved, had its pil- • De la Concorde, began before the revolution. t Temple de la Gloire, Eglise de la Madelaine, begun before the revolution, then taken down, then restored, and yet unfinished and suspended. 19 lars been fluted and more massive, and had the stone of which it is built been of a softer white. To these petty defects we may add one more essential ; which is, that the whole is a mere theatrical decoration of no depth, and not the least utility ; very different from similar embel- lishments in ancient times, when-they always graced the principal, perhaps sole, entrance into a curia or a temple, and not only pleased the eye, but elevated the minds of those who en- tered in, and raised them to a level with the des- tination of the edifice. Through the middle alley of the Tuilleries, (a noble garden formed principally of fine spreading elms, limes, and horse chestnut-trees, and sur- rounded with a terrace,) we come to the front of the Palace. 1 have in another work* spoken of this edifice, admired its extent and its symmetry, but censured the divisions and interruptions of style and manner, that by breaking it into such a variety of parts, diminish its effect and deprive it of all the advantages of its immense magnitude. * Classical Tour through Italy. c 2 20 You pass through the pillared vestibule, and then enter the noble court of the Louvre. In front an iron rail, formed of spears with gilt points encloses the space nearest the Tuilleries, and extends across the square. Close to the middle entrance of this rail, rises a triumphal arch erected by Bonaparte ; its materials are beautiful marble ; its form is the same as that of Constantine ; its decorations are pretty ; but it is small in size, and mis- placed in situation. A triumphal arch should cross a street or a high road, and form a gate- way to a city or to a grand square. Here it stands in the court of a palace, and seems rather to encumber than to ornament the space it co- vers. On the top of this arch, are placed the four ce- lebrated bronze horses, taken from the Piazza di San Marco, at Venice. Instead of standing insulated, as they did originally, they are har- nessed to a triumphal car, and held on each side by two figures of victory. These figures and the car are gilt, and by their splendor and position quite eclipse the matchless horses. 21 On the right, as you advance towards the triumphal arch, extends the edifice which forms a communication between the Tuilleries and the Louvre, and now contains the cele- brated gallery of pictures. Its architecture is in part the same as that of the pavilions of the Tuilleries, without the attic, but dis- figured by numberless pediments alternately triangular and curvilinear. Towards the mid- dle, the style changes, and instead of the sin- gle Corinthian, three different and whimsical composite forms are introduced to the great detriment of the architectural appearance. Bona- parte laudably wishing to complete the square, began the communication on the opposite side ; and had erected more than a third of it, at the period of his dethronement The work is still carried on, and will, it is to be hoped, be com- pleted in the space of a year or two ; when finished, it will form, by the union of the two palaces, and by the simplicity and open- ness of the design, which counterbalance so many defects, the noblest royal residence in Europe. 22 The Louvre is a square edifice of very pretty architecture, though rather minute in the in- ward court and square. The front which it presents to the river, is plain and noble. The eastern front is the famous colonnade, the pride of French architecture, and the noblest monument of the era of Louis the Four- teenth. It is of the Corinthian order, of con- siderable elevation and length, and indisputably of grand and majestic appearance. Yet it is liable to much criticism. The substruction on which it stands is too high in proportion to the elevation of the colonnade. 1 lie pillars are coupled; a circumstance which destroys the proportion between the pillars and the inter- columniations. The shafts are too thin for their length ; and in fine the heavy masses at the ends and in the centre, under the pediment, throw a gloom and a clumsiness over the whole fabric* In the neighbourhood of the Louvre, is the * I have elsewhere observed that the elevation of the co- lonnade of the Louvre from the ground to the top of the 23 Palais Royal, the residence of the Duke of Orleans, of neat but very plain architecture. The gardens were turned into a handsome square by the late Duke, and became one of the grand theatres of revolutionary madness, as well as of dissipation and libertinism. The first has eva- porated, but the two latter seem inherent in the very materials of the place, and long likely to haunt its impure recesses, and to infect the very air that breathes over it. Buonaparte detached the garden and palace of the Tuilleries, by destroying the riding- school and several houses that encumbered the north side of the garden, and building the Rue de Rivoli, which runs the whole length, and borders the street with a row of handsome ar- cades. From the northern gate of the garden, and across the Rue de Rivoli, he has opened a wide street to the Place Vendome, and thence again to the Boulevards. pediment is said to be one hundred and twenty-five feet, an elevation equalled by the bronze canopy that covers the altar of St. Peter's. 24 Thus the column which Napoleon erected in the centre of the Place Vendome, stands dis- played on both sides, and is seen to great ad- vantage from a considerable distance. The co- lumn is of the same form, elevation, and pro- portion, as the celebrated Colurflna Trajana at Rome ; the only difference between them is in favor of the former, as it is entirely covered from the ground to the summit with brass fur- nished by the artillery taken from the Austrians. The figures that wind in a spiral line from the base to the capital, represent the events of the Austrian campaigns, and are executed in a bold and vigorous style. The deformities of modern dress, so ill calculated for representation, are oftentimes very skilfully connected in the masses, and almost lost in the crowd and bustle of the action. The statue of Napoleon, which like that of Trajan, crowned the summit of his co- lumn, is replaced by the white flag; whe- ther a more majestic and appropriate termi- nation be intended, I have not been informed. The Place Vendome, though of regular archi- tecture and form, does not, however, either in 25 size or beauty correspond with so noble a deco- ration ; and the appearance and accompani- ments of the Place de la Concorde, would have been better adapted to the majesty of the co- lumn. One of the best views, perhaps the noblest of Paris, is that from the Pont Royale, whence the traveller sees displayed on his right, a well-built and regular quay, with the Pa- lais des Arts (College MazarinJ and the Hotel des Monnoies; and on his left, the Gallery of the Louvre in its full length. In front he has the new bridge, called the Pont des Arts ; the Pont Neuf, the river there diverging into two branches lined with noble quays ; and the venerable towers of Notre Dame, rising in the midst of its island. The Palais du Luxembourg, now Palais du Senate or des Pairs, is a bold, regular, and majestic, but heavy edifice, erected b}^ Mary of Medicisr on the plan of the Palazzo Pitti of Florence, as a memorial of her distant country. Its beauty arises from its simplicity and mass ; its defor- mity, from the rustic style, which pervades the so whole. The interior has been repaired and im- proved ; and the staircase leading to the hall of the Senate, although a feeble imitation of that of the Vatican, is very majestic. The garden be- hind it, now enlarged and extended to the Obser- vatory, is as anciently, public, and though infe- rior to that of the Tuilleries, yet beautiful, and a great embellishment to that quarter of Paris. The Palace of the Legion of Honor, once of the Prince of Salm (who was put to death dur- ing the revolution), is remarkable tor its court, formed of a very handsome Ionic colonnade, and though not extensive or elevated, may be considered as one of the principal ornaments of this city. In churches, notwithstanding the devasta- tions of the revolution, and the treacherous in- difference of Napoleon's government, Paris is still rich ; and though Notre Dame is inferior to Westminster, and Sainte Genevieve, to St. Paul's ; though the portico of St. Martin's, St. George's, Bloomsbury, and St. George's, Ha- nover Square, are more simple and correct than uny similar decoration in the French capital; 27 yet, not only the two churches which I have mentioned, but St. Roch, St. Sulpice, St. Eu- stache, and that of the Invalids, are most no- ble edifices, and far superior in magnitude to all the churches in London, with the exception of St. Paul's and Westminster. In interior decorations and splendor, even these sink into insignificance compared with the Pari- sian temples. The superiority of the latter in this respect, is to be ascribed, not only to the more majestic character of the predominant re- ligion, and to the more active piety of its vota- ries,' but to the prevalency of a purer taste, which proscribes pews and skreens, and cen- tral pulpits, with every contrivance to encumber the pavement and to obstruct the general view; and which at the same time requires, that the interior of churches should be embellished with as much care and attention as other public edi- fices, and that the table of the Lord should be graced with as much decency, as an ordinary sideboard. I have said, notwithstanding the devastations of the revolution ; previous to that explosion of national phrenzy, there were in 28 Paris two hundred and twenty-two churches, of which forty-five were parochial ; of these there remain twelve parochial and twenty-seven sue- cursal or minor parish churches, in all thirty-nine churches for public or parochial service. The others have either been demolished, or turned into manufactories, schools, or granaries. The greater part of those which remained, were pil- laged, stript of all their marble, brass, statues, paintings, and even altars and pulpits. The painted windows were not often spared, and the lead and copper of the roof not unfrequently carried off. Thus they were all reduced to a lamentable state of degradation, nakedness, and gradual decay ; and in that state, they re- mained till the religion of the nation once more became that of the state : and Christianity re- assumed its external honors. The attention of government was then directed to the preser- vation of the churches ; but as Napoleon acted more from political than religious motives, and confined his liberality within the narrowest bounds of strict necessity, the work of restora- tion proceeded slowly ; and many or rather most 29 churches still exhibit the traces of revolution- ary profanation. In Notre Dame itself, though the cathe- dral of the capital, and the stage of the pompous ceremony of the coronation, the re- parations and embellishments were confined principally to the conspicuous parts, the nave and the chancel ; while the lateral chapels still remain stripped, and encumbered with the ruins of their tombs and altars. St. Sulpice and St. Roch, are in the same state of dilapidation ; and if these two churches, the noblest orna- ments of Paris, and situated in its most popu- lous and opulent quarters, have been thus neglected by government, it will be inferred that others more remote, and less dignified, attracted but little of its attention. The zeal of the faithful might be supposed to anticipate the tardiness of imperial bounty, and public piety was not deficient : but the people were impoverished ; property had passed into other hands ; and the new nobles and proprietors were not often under the active influence of religious feelinsrs. o 30 From the destruction of churches which has taken place in the capital, the reader may col- lect what ravages have been made in the pro- vinces, and in all the territory of France ; how many sacred edifices have been levelled in the dust ; how many tombs have been profaned ; and how many monuments intimately connected with the progress of its arts, with the memory of its heroes, and with the feelings of its inha- bitants, have been swept away from its surface, and lost for ever to posterity. Complaints have been made, and justly, both by the antiquary and the Christian, of the ruins which the reformation spread over the surface of England, and the fall of so many stately abbies, the monuments both of the piety and the skill of our ancestors has been lamented by Protestants as well as by Catholics, as an irre- parable misfortune. Yet how confined the scene of devastation which England has to de- plore, when compared to that vast range of havoc which France must for ever bewail ! In England the cathedrals were all respected, their number was even augmented : some of the abbey churches were spared ; the two univer- 51 sities and all the great schools, most of the hospitals and many collegiate churches were preserved ; and though the sentence of confisca- tion was general, the rapacity of the court was partial, and restrained probably by public opi- nion, it extended itself only to those parts of the ecclesiastical establishment which had lost their popularity. In France, of one hundred and thirty bishoprics, fifty only have been retained ; of the cathedrals attached to suppressed bishoprics, some have been demolished, and others de- prived of the income necessary to support such extensive edifices, have been abandoned to silent decay. The number of the former I have not ascertained, but among them is Liege, the seat of a prince bishop and of a noble chapter, Boulogne and Cambray. The ashes of Fenelon reposed in the latter, and a name so dear to re- ligion, humanity, and literature, might in other times, and other countries have been a suffi- cient cause of exemption from the fatal sen- tence. In France also the abbies, collegiate churches, universities, colleges, hospitals, and convents, were all condemned without ex- ception, and few, very few have had the good 32 fortune to escape the general proscription.— Hence the towns here have lost much of their magnificence, and of the splendid exhi- bition produced by spires, and towers, and domes rising in clusters, or shewing themselves singly and successively through the long ave- nues that usually lead to French cities ; and hence also the solitude that pervades the quar- ters formerly adorned with churches and col- leges; a solitude visible, not only in provincial towns, but even in the capital itself. Churches in all cities are the most remarkable edifices, as they present the history of the art, and not unfrequently display some portion of the taste and even of the manners of the age in which they were erected. But in Paris they have an additional interest, as they exhibit not only the taste of the age, but the influence of national character on the arts. The gothic churches, such as Notre Dame in the simpler, the Sainte Chapelle in the orna- mental style, St. Germain, St. Etiennedu Mont, of a mixed taste, are very different from Gothic cathedrals in England and in Germany, and ex- hibit singularities which seem to have arisen 33 from the national partiality to light and airy or- naments. But this peculiarity is more striking in edifices of a more modern date : for while at the restoration of the arts most nations either contented themselves with Italian models, or, guided by Italian masters, aimed at a distant and humble imitation of ancient monuments, the French adopted indeed the principles of the Italian school, but conceived it easy to excel that school, and even the ancients themselves in the application of those principles. Unfortunately all attempts to excel, and to invent, even though encouraged by royal patronage, (as in the time of Louis the Four- teenth,) have hitherto terminated in deformi- ties, as offensive to the eye in architecture as the dresses of the same epoch are to the purer taste of modern times in fashion. In the preposterous arrangement of stories upon stories, in the slenderness of the pillar, in the elevation of the pedestal, in the double co- lumns, the increase of intercolumniation, in the irregularity of the entablature, and the interrup- tion of the line, in the elevation and twisted D 34 forms of the pediment, and in all the defeets of the modern Italians, the Trench have surpassed their masters. These defects disfigure most of the public edifices, and particularly the churches in Paris, and deprive the vast monuments of the royal sera of Louis the Fourteenth, of the majestic graces which must naturally result from their magnitude. A more correct taste began to diffuse itself among the French architects towards the close of the reign of Louis the Fifteenth, and conti- nued to make a rapid progress after the accession of his successor, till it was suspended by the agitations of the revolution. This purer taste revived under the influence of Bonaparte and seems likely to improve and spread very gene- rally under the sway of the Bourbons, the natu- ral patrons of the arts, and the friends of archi- tectural magnificence. The principal edifices erected in this better and more ancient style are the colonnades that border the Place Louis Quinze ; the Hotel de Salm ; the New Madelaine ; the church called de llouille ; St. Genevieve ; the front of the Palace of the Corps Legislatif; and the Tri- umphal Arch. Most, if not all these edifices have some of the defects of the former style, but they are exempt from many of them, and are undoubtedly much nearer to the more sim- ple and correct forms of antiquity. I have in another work criticised the defects of St. Gene- vieve — I will now point out some of its beau- ties, and in the first place do justice to the sinv plicity of its exterior, free from useless decora- tions, and not even interrupted by windows ; and in the next, mention with due approbation the suppression of arcades in the interior, and the revival of pillars with their regular enta- blature instead of arches. The alarm pro- duced by the sinking of the dome occasioned some alteration in the original plan, and obliged the architects now employed in the completion of the work, to convert the twelve pillars on which the dome rested, into four massive but- tresses, like those in St. Paul's; an alteration by D 2 no means favorable to the general effect, though managed with the utmost skill. Yet the ap- pearance of the whole still remains light and pleasing. The vaults under this church, destined to hold so many modern heroes and sages, are skilfully contrived, and very different from most other vaults, are neither dark, nor damp, nor gloomy. They consist of galleries lined with cells ; in these cells, all nearly of the same size, the bodies are deposited each in a stone sarcophagus of exactly the same size and form. The inscriptions are in French, relating merely the name, the dignity, and the age of the deceased ; no religious feeling is express- ed on the tombs ; but over the door of each cell the cypher XP, and the letters A and XI, marks of faith and hope so often observable in the Roman catacombs, indicate that the bodies reposing within await a glorious resur- rection. Yet it would be more consoling to see this signet of immortality marked on every sarcophagus ; he that dying thinketh on heaven s bliss, must surely wish to have a signal of that 37 hope marked on his tomb. Its absence seems to imply that when he died, he made no sign. Sed nox atra caput tristi circumvolat umbra. The bridges at Paris, owing to the elevation of the quays above the river, have little ascent, and are therefore very convenient, but in beauty they are far inferior to the bridges of Rome and Florence, and in magnitude and grandeur they sink into insignificance when compared to the stupendous masses of Blackfriars and West- minster. Of these bridges two are iron, as useful and as graceless as may be expected from such materials. In fountains, when compared to Rome, Paris is poor indeed, but compared to London, rich and magnificent. The Fontaine de Grenelle presents a rich and stately front, though in a very confined situation, and with no exuberance of water. That of the Ecole de Medicine fall- ing in a sheet from a vault supported by four Doric columns, is, though on a small scale, new and not unpleasing to the eye. The Fontaine des Innocens pours a considerable volume of 38 water into four capacious basins ; its decora- tions and form are admired for their grace and proportions ; but it has not sufficient mass and dignity. The new fountain on the Boulevard St. Martin, is the noblest ornament of the kind in this capital, and derives a considerable de- gree of beauty from its magnitude, its form, its materials, and its decorations. The form is circular, the ornaments are lions, the ma- terials are granite and bronze, and the quan- tity of water is abundant. The trees that line the Boulevards are a very pleasing accoiiir paniment. 1 am inclined to object to lions, and indeed to any animals introduced as active decorations in fountains. The idea of a stream rushing from the mouth of an animal is not natural, and if it were natural, it is not pleasing. All the embellishments and even all the accom- paniments of a fountain ought to breathe fresh- ness, purity, and cleanliness. The water should appear as if bursting from its source, and .either rush from a rock, bubble up in the midst of a basin, or spring in the center of a vase, 39 and fall in sheets all over its edges. Water spouting- from tubes, or squirted into the air from syringes, or flowing from fishes, beasts, and tritons, may perhaps for a moment amuse the eye, but cannot surely gratify the taste of the intelligent spectator. When the beauty and the utility of foun- tains are considered, it cannot but appear sur- prising that the British Capital should be des- titute of such decorations, especially as the torrents that now roll under its pavements, and so frequently burst their pipes for want of a vent, supply a superabundance of water. How beautiful would the gleaming of a sheet of falling water appear through the shrub- beries of Grosvenor square 1 , and how much more appropriate than the pony and its pigmy rider, imprisoned in the middle of the pool of St. James's ! The truth is, that in no city has less been given to ornament than in London ; its beauties are the result of convenience, and its wide streets, its flags, and its squares, owe their origin, not to the taste but to the con- 40 venience of the inhabitants. Hence, an abun- dant supply of water has been carefully pro- vided ; but the purposes of utility being thus attained, public attention was withdrawn from the object. At present, however, when plans of embellishment occupy government, and when, if report be true, very considerable im- provements are to be made, it is to be hoped that fountains will not be forgotten, and that the play of waters will add to the freshness of the squares, and to the cleanliness of the streets already so conspicuous. You will of course expect some observations on the two celebrated collections of statues and of pictures, which are supposed to render Paris the seat of the arts, and to give it a superiority over Rome itself, with all its antiquities and all its glories. The subject is too extensive for a letter ; we must therefore confine ourselves to a few observations. The collections occupy part of the ground floor of the old Louvre, and the whole of the new Louvre, or the gallery of communication be- 41 tween the Tuilleries and the former palace. The lower halls are consecrated to the statues, and are seven in number, including the vesti- bule ; some are paved with marble, and the ceilings of all are painted : their magnitude is not striking with the exception of the hall, which was opened, and furnished the latest, called the Salle des Fleuves. These halls contain more than three hundred statues, almost all ancient, most excellent in their kind, and some considered as the master- pieces of the art, and the greatest efforts of Gre- cian talent. Such an assemblage is, without doubt striking, and must, we should naturally imagine, excite the greatest admiration and de- light. Yet, unfortunately, there are circum- stances which, if I may judge from my own feelings, and the feelings of many foreign, and even some French spectators, diminish both our pleasure and our astonishment at such an extra- ordinary exhibition. In the first place, the halls are not embellished in such a style of magnifi- cence as becomes the combination of wonders which they contain ; in the next place they are 42 too gloomy ; and in the third, the arrangement is extremely detective. Sculpture and architecture are sister arts : they ought to be inseparable ; the living forms of the former are made to grace and enliven the palaces and the temples of the latter. Besides, the emperors of Rome and the deities of Greece sat enthroned under columns, or stood enshrined in the midst of marble porticoes ; a flood of light burst from the domes over their heads, and all the colors of marble gleamed from the pavement and played round their pedestals. Thus en- circled with light, and glory, and beauty, they appeared in ancient Athens and in modern Rome, each, according to its dignity, in its niche of honor, or in its separate temple, high above the crowd, and distinguished as much by its site as by its excellence. How degraded are the captive gods and em- perors, the imprisoned heroes and sages of the Louvre ! The floors are flagged, the walls are plastered, the ceilings arched, the windows rare ; a few scanty beams just glare on the lifeless forms, as if to shew the paleness of the 43 marble, and the confusion in which gods and animals, heroes and vases, historical beings and mythological tables crowd around. The Laocoon and the Apollo ot\Belvidere, it is true, occupy the most distinguished place, each in its particular hall ; but the way to the latter is obstructed by a whole line of minor forms ; and in his haste to contemplate the matchless groupe of the former, the spectator stumbles upon the Venus of Medicis! . It would be absurd to say, that France is de- ficient in artists, or that her artists are all de- ficient in taste ; but it may happen that in France, as well as in many other countries, the best artists are not always the most fa- vored ; and that it is much easier to sove- reigns to give employment, than to endow those whom it employs with judgment and abilities. Statues, like pictures, one would imagine, ought to be arranged so as to form the history of the art ; so as to lead the spectator from the first efforts of untutored nature, to the bold outline of the Egyptians, to the full, the breath- ing perfection of the Greeks. 44 Vases might precede the forms of animals, animals might lead to men, to heroes, to sages, and to gods. Altars and tripods might be placed before the divinities to which they are sa- cred ; and the few grand master-pieces might stand each in the center of its own temple, and be allowed to engross the admiration of those who entered its sanctuary. If the classics fur- nish any reference or elucidation, it might be inscribed in marble tablets on the walls ; and Virgil and Horner might be employed in deve- loping the design of the sculptor, or the sculp- tor become the commentator of Virgil and Ho- mer. From the Halls of Statues a most magnificent flight of stone steps, adorned by marble pillars, leads to the gallery of pictures. The spectator ascends with a pleasure that increases as he passes the noble saloon serving as an anticham- ber to the museum ; but when he stands at its entrance, and beholds a gallery of fourteen hun- dred feet extending in immeasurable perspec- tive before him, he starts with surprise and ad- miration. The variety of tints that line the 45 sides, the splendid glow of the gilding above, the blaze that breaks through the lateral win- dows, and the tempered lights that fall from the roof mingle together in the perspective, and form a most singular and fascinating com- bination of light and shade, of splendor and obscurity. The pictures are arranged according to the schools ; and the schools are divided by marble pillars. Of these divisions some are lighted from above, while others are exposed to the glare of cross lights from the lateral windows ; a defect which I believe is to be remedied. The French school comes first in place, and from it; the spectator passes to the Dutch, the German, and the Italian schools. Little can be objected to this arrangement; but the impartial critic may be disposed to complain, when he finds Claude Lorrain, a German by birth, and an Italian by education ranked among French painters ; when he sees the composition of mo- dern artists, whose names are little known, and whose title to fame is not certainly yet established, placed on a line with the acknow- 46 ledged masters of the art ; and when lie disco- vers the glare and contortion of David's figures staring on the very walls that display the calmness and the repose of Poussin's scenery. In truth the former artist, to the national defects of glitter, bustle, and con- tortion, has superadded the absurdity of de- grading Greek and Roman heroes into revo- lutionary assassins, and converting the stern- ness of Brutus and of Cato into the infer- nal grin of Marat and Robespierre. To complain of the number of pictures in a gallery would be unreasonable ; yet we may be permitted to observe, that many splendid objects when united eclipse each other ; and that master-pieces, placed in contact, must ne- cessarily dazzle the eye and divide the atten- tion. Paintings, therefore, which are confess- edly the first specimens of the art, ought to be placed separate, each in its own apartment, under the influence of a light peculiarly its own, and with all its appropriate accompaniments.* * Several even of the first-rate pictures are said to have been damaged, not only by the removal, but by the repara- 47 Having thus spoken with due admiration of this astonishing- collection, I must particularly as a stranger mention with becoming applause and acknowledgment, the very liberal regulations which open it on stated occasions to the French public, and at all times (Sunday only except- ed) to foreigners. • No apprehension seems to be entertained of mischief, either from design or negligence, or awkwardness, and little or no superintendency is employed to prevent it : these treasures of ancient and modern art are trusted without diffidence to the taste and the honor of the public* tion and ill-judged process of cleansing and recoloring. This charge I do not take upon myself to substantiate ; but the glare of varnish is certainly very observable, and I con- ceive, very detrimental to the appearance of the pictures. * The number of pictures exceeds twelve hundred ; it might be reduced, and many articles excluded without any detriment to the perfection of the museum. Notwith- standing the greatness of the number, I doubt whether England does not possess an equal, if not a greater number of master-pieces. In the compositions of Claude Loraine, Salvator Rosa, Poussin, and Rembrandt, England is unri- valled. 48 After all when the first transports of admira- tion subside, it is impossible not to feel an in- dignant swell at the rapacious insolence, that has thus robbed half Europe of its best, its dearest treasures, and sacrilegiously torn from churches and altars, the noble furniture with which the piety of artists and the opulence of sovereigns had adorned them. To sanction or even to excuse such lawless rapacity by the conduct of the Romans is too absurd ; for in the first place, the laws of war were then very different from those prescribed by universal consent to Christian nations. The Greeks were accustomed to enslave their captives. The Ro- mans, more generous, allowed them their per- sonal liberty. To their property they had a right then admitted by all. But in the second place, the Romans never had recourse to dissi- mulation ; they never entered a country as friends and treated it as enemies ; their hostility was open : their war was announced. In the third place, they did not plunder the Greeks by any act of government ; they did not oblige them by articles of peace to surrender their sta- 49 tues and pictures, or to strip their temples and their porticos. Hence Greece was rich in bronze and marble, even at the period of the Gothic invasion led by Alaric, in the reign of Arca- dius (an. dom. 395.) In the fourth place, at the time when the Roman emperors abused their power to usurp the public property of Greece, they in return opened roads, raised aqueducts, built temples, and adorned her cities with por- ticos, theatres, and thermae. When the French confer such important benefits upon the coun- tries, which they have plundered, the world may, perhaps, be disposed to excuse their ra- pacity in minor articles. In fine, the vices of the Greeks and Romans are not to be set up as precedents for imitation, nor is the conduct of Christian governments to be moulded upon the policy of pagan nations. Unfortunately for its own happiness, and for the peace of the world, the French government, under all its revolu- tionary forms, took the Romans, when debased by imperial despotism, for their pattern ; and nobly imitated or rather surpassed the original in cruelty, pride, and insolence. E 50 But to wave the consideration of the morality of this act of rapine, it may be doubted whether instead of promoting the arts, it does not retard their progress: for though the vanity of the nation was likely to be gratified by the measure, when it was first in contemplation, yet the French ar- tists protested against it ; and, if I mistake not, presented a memorial to the Directory, to pre- vent its execution. Much, indeed, might have been said by them, and many weighty argu- ments produced in support of their reclamation. For if success depend upon genius, and genius be awakened and brought into action by circum- stances ; if a certain agitation of mind, a fer- mentation of thought, an earnestness of effort, or in one word, if enthusiasm be as essential in painting and sculpture, as it undoubtedly is in poetry and eloquence, the sole question then will be whether Paris or Rome is most likely to produce in the mind this creative power, this vivida vis, the very soul and* source of excel- lent. To enter into a formal comparison be- tween these capitals would be absurd; as in the former there is not one 4 object to excite dmo- 51 tion, not one monument to awaken recollection', no scene to enchant the eye, no awful form to swell the imagination ; while the latter teems with the images of the past, and the wonders of the present, exhibiting the grand or the beau- tiful at every step, and keeping the stronger, and more effective emotions of the mind, its admi- ration, delight, and melancholy, in constant action. Veuve du peuple Roi, Reine encore du raonde. De Lille. But independent of this consideration, as long as the Camere diRaffaello remain in Rome ; and that will be as long as Rome exists, so long the painter will consider it as the school of the art ; and so long must those who profess, and those who admire that art, flock to the Vatican as to its sanctuary. All the pictures in the gallery of Paris united, do not equal the skill, the variety, the invention, the execution, the forms, th Ludgate-Street. " This is one of the best books of travels that have ap- peared since we began our labours."(1) " Mr. Eustace is endowed with all the natural and acquired gifts, and advan- tages which fitted him for intimately knowing Italy and Italians."(2) " His religious sentiments and political prin- ciples are equally liberal."(3) " * His style is pure and flow- ing."(4) " His description of local scenery is unrivalled. "(5) " His classical taste displays itself with peculiar advantage and uncommon felicity."(6) " This is a work that no person projecting a Tour to (1) Ed. Rev. No. 42, p. 378.— (2) Monthly Rev. Feb. p. 114.— (3) Quarterly Rev. No. 19, p. 223.— (4) British Critic, April, p. 399.— (5) Critical Rev. May, p. 491.— (6) * His observations do equal honour to his head and heart. Italy can hereafter be without."(7) " * It is a manual and guide to the whole country; all Mr. Eustace's readiug, all his inquiries, all his endeavours, appear to have been de- voted to the study of this glorious theatre of ancient and modern exploits; his vigilance is ever on the alert; his reasoning is unobstructed by prejudice ; and his work will improve the heart while it interests the understanding."(8) " The philosopher, the poet, and the orator, may alike profit by the reflections, the descriptions, and the style with which this elegant Tourist has adorned and enriched his communications."^) " In perusing and reflecting on the work of this learned, dispassionate, and energetic writer, we know not whether to bestow the greatest share of commendation on those talents for description, which place the reader on the very spot, and surround him with every admonitus locorum, or on the many profound remarks and discussions respecting historical, poli- tical, literary, and religious subjects, which arc scattered in different parts of his volumes."(10) In this New Edition, the Publisher has endeavoured, by the addition of a large, accurate, and finely engraved Map of Italy, and by particular attention to the paper and type, to do justice to a work, which the Public has r*»or>iv«»H uith such uncommon partiality. The Map, two Plates, with the additional matter contain- ed in this Edition, may be had by the purchasers of the pre- vious one, price 5s. The Map of Italy, by Zannoni, price 5s. Quarterly Rev. No. 19, p. 241.— (7) British Rev. No. 10, p. 301.— (8) Monthly Rev. Feb. p. 11G.— (9) British Rev. No. 10, p. 391.— (10) Monthly Rev. May, p. 39. * We can safely assure the reader, especially if he has an opportunity of taking it as a guide to an actual visit to Rome, that no work can be better calculated to assist his in- quiries.— Edin. Rev. No. 42, p. 397. ' ^ £ C i/ rxf UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Al/^ n* LotAngelet "sS^"^^"^ FACILITY 2004) JUL13 RECTt 3 1158 00978 0320 UC SOUTHERN KGIO^UBjg^ACILmj AA 000101826 6