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 ■1^ 

 
 '-.i- 
 
 -■t 
 
 ROUG H SKETCH 
 
 OF 
 
 MODERN PARIS. 
 
 G, VVooDFALL, Primer, 
 Paterroster row.
 
 kOUGH SKETCH 
 
 0t 
 
 MODERN PARIS; 
 
 OK, 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 SOCIETY, MAMNERS, public CURIOSITIES, AND AMUSE- 
 MENTS, IN TriAT CAPITAL, 
 
 ^Kitten buring the last two months of l8oi and thi: firs'; 
 
 FIVE OF iSoj. 
 
 ^r /. G. LEMALSTRE, ESQ, 
 
 SECOND EDITION, 
 
 J'af voulii voir Paris; Ics fastesde rhistoir* 
 Cclebrent ses phisirs, el consacrtnt sa gloirc. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 Nous avons vu Trajan, Titus et Marc Anrcle, 
 
 Quitter le beau sejour de la gloire immortelle. 
 
 Pour vcnir en secret s'amuscr a Paris. 
 
 Quelquc bieh qu'on puissc etre, on veutch&ngpr dc placf ; 
 
 CVst pourquoi les anglois sortent de Icur pays. 
 
 L'csprit est inquiet, ct de tout il se lasse; 
 
 Sduvent un bif n heurcuX s'eniiuie en Paradis. 
 
 lor :.t. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 MINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, IN ST. PAUL's CUURCHTAR»-. 
 
 1803.
 
 1)C 
 
 Tat ■ - 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 JX June, 1801, while the war between Eng- 
 land and Franco still continued, I obtained 
 his majesty's license to visit the U\tter coun- 
 ,try, in order to ascertain my claims to a 
 legacy left me at Paris. A trench passport 
 was likewise necessary; and such were the 
 difficulties which occurred, that, notwitli- 
 standing repeated applications to M. Otto on 
 the subject, the instrument in question was 
 not yet arrived, when, on the first of Oc- 
 tober, an extraordinary gaze.tte announced the 
 joyful intelligence of the signature of pre- 
 liminary articles ojf peace. The jealousy of 
 the frcnch government ceased with the war; 
 and, three days after its termination, I re- 
 ceived the long expected passport. 
 
 Being one of the fust cnglitlimen who 
 arrived in France, after a war big with such 
 unparallelled events, I determined to keep 
 a journal of my proceedings. The object 
 which, at first, induced me to do so, was 
 
 a 2
 
 il PREFACE. 
 
 simply to gratify the curiosity pi an ipli» 
 mate friend, who had cliarged pie, on leav^ 
 Ing England, to forward to him, by every 
 opportupity, detailed accounts pf modern 
 France. Of my correspondence, thus be- 
 gun, I took regular copicp ; and, on pe- 
 rusing the materials which 1 had been ahlp 
 to collect, it afterwards occurred to me, that 
 some of these letters might becoi:j?e not to- 
 tally uninteresting to the public, if formed 
 ^nto a less objectionable shape, and freed 
 from the many little occurrences, whicl| 
 they originally (ontained, and which only 
 related personally either to my friend or my^ 
 self. From this collection I have acpordhigly 
 culled the following letters. I offer then; 
 to my readers, as conveying not a studied 
 view of society and manners, bi|t a rpugh 
 landscape, drawn by the untutored hand of 
 nn inexperienced artist. If the sketch should 
 happen to please, the merit will be less in 
 the execution than in the subject; if it fail, 
 the fault will be in the pencil, and not in 
 Jhe accuracy of thp drawer. 
 
 To divest myself, as much as possible, 
 ^rom every prejudice, has been a duty which
 
 5?REFACE. ili 
 
 I have stiicUy endeavoured to fuliil; yet I 
 fear, such is the effect of early habit, that 
 many marks .will ^tlU be discovered of na- 
 tional predilectign. I beg leave, as a check 
 against faults of this kind, which I may- 
 have involuntarily ppmmitted, to request my 
 reader to remember, that the observations 
 now laid before him, arc those of a mau 
 accustomed to cngHsh opinions, cnglish so- 
 ciety, and eni>lish manners. In judging of 
 another country, ^ foreigner cannot help 
 making a comparisoji between what he has 
 known at home ai)d what he sees abroad. 
 Jn doin^ sq, jLhe partiality, which he na- 
 turally entertains fpr his own customs, may 
 lead him to condepin, as faults, what may 
 be simply deviations from the former. "1 hat 
 such is the general bias of the human mind, 
 1 am fully aware, and I cannot flatter my- 
 self that mine has escaped it. This con« 
 sidcration must plead my excuse with the 
 french, Jf I should sonietimes appear severe ; 
 and the same ought to prevent my country- 
 men from placing too imphcit a confidence 
 in my judgments, wjiere it may be my mis- 
 fortune to condemn. My hand has faith- 
 fully drawn what my eye beheld; but the
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 siglit may be jaundiced, and, in that case 
 the picture will be incorrect. 
 
 To conclude — The intention of this work 
 being simply to describe the internal situ- 
 ation of the french capital, all religious and 
 political discussions will be avoided. The 
 causes, events, and consequences of a revo- 
 lution, whicli has no parallel In history, I 
 leave to abler and more experienced writers. 
 To point out to strangers tiie objects most 
 interesting at Paris, to convey some previous 
 information to those who intend going thi- 
 ther, and to lay before such as arc prevented, 
 by their other occupations, from undertaking 
 the journey, an account of the pleasures, fes- 
 tivals, buildings, and mode qf living in that 
 metropolis, is the task I have undertaken, a 
 task which, however comparatively humble, 
 is neither useless nor unimportant. Had it 
 fallen into other hands, the public would feel 
 the truth of this remark. As it is,' I fear they 
 will easily discover, that the subject deserved 
 an abler pen. 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE SECOND EDITION-. 
 
 The first edition of this work appeared ano- 
 nymously. Us rapid sale and the favourahle 
 nianner in which " The Rough Sketch," has 
 been received induce the Author, as a mark of 
 respedl and gratitude to an indulgent Public, to 
 affix, his name to this second impression. In 
 doing so, he begs leave to apologize for the 
 typographical errors found in the lirst edition, 
 and which he can only correct in that which 
 is now issued, bv means of an errata. These 
 faults may, perhaps, be pardoned, when it is 
 known that the Author was in the most dis- 
 tant part of Italy at the time of the first pub- 
 lication, and that most of the sheets which 
 compose the present impression, were struck 
 off previously to his return. 
 
 In reading the following pages the Public 
 will also have the goodness to remember the 
 period at which tliey were written. When 
 the Author speaks of Bonaparte, he speaks of 
 him in other days. In May, 180'^, when these
 
 il PREFACE; 
 
 letters were concluded, the Fiifi: Consul wa^ 
 the elected first magistrate of France, the pro- 
 fessed friend of England, and the acknow- 
 ledged pacificator of Europe. He had not at 
 that time overturned the form of government 
 "which he had solemnly sworn to maintain, by 
 assuming for life the reins of power. He hacf 
 not then violated the laws of nations and the 
 rights of a free, virtuous, and independent 
 people by the subjugation of Svvitzerland. He' 
 had not then insulted his Majesty and the 
 British nation in the perfon of our ambassador. 
 He had not yet dared to ask for Changes in- 
 the moil: valuable and purest parts of our ex- 
 cellent conllitution, nor had he sunk the dig-' 
 nity of his character by a conversation which 
 at once betrayed his vanity, rashness, and un- 
 bounded ambition. In one word,' the laurels 
 of Marengo were yet unfaded. He was then 
 a great man. "Without enquiring what he now 
 is, one may be permitted to apply to him wha^ 
 Virgil said of the Trojan hero after his defeat:' 
 
 •Heu quantum rtiutatiis ab illo 
 
 Hectore, qui redit exuvias indutus Achillis ^ 
 
 Upper Sei/mcvr Street, 
 Scjjt.'til, 1S03.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Reflections on landing a.t Calais; — Custom liouse officers, 
 
 municipality, commissaiies, Dessein's, theatre. — Montreuil. 
 
 — L/hotel d'Angleterre at Amiens. — Chantilly. — State of 
 
 the roadSi — Difficulty of getting lodgings at Paris. — !M. 
 
 ■ Feregaux. p. 1. 
 
 LETTER IE 
 
 The palace and gardens of the Thuilleri's. — The Louvre. 
 — 'ITie musce central des arts, or picture gallery. — Maria 
 Coszcai/. — Gallery of antiquities. — Apollo Belvidere. — 
 
 . Laocoon. — List of pictures. p. 10. 
 
 LETTER II L 
 
 Ilie ft-fe of the ISth of brumaire in honour of the prelimi- 
 naries, and of the anniversary of the consular govern- 
 nient. — Apathy of. the people. — Fireworks. — Accident 
 which happened to an cnglish gentleman.— Po.s/5cr»^;.— 
 The death of the gentleman last named. p. 40. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 State of society at Paris. — The three sets, I'ancicnne noblesse, 
 the governmental class, and Ics parvenus ou notiveuux rkkes. 
 — Description of a house belonging to one of the latter. 
 
 p. 53. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Opening of the legislative body. — Election of the president. 
 — Lord Cornwallis. — Reflections of the people in the 
 g-i-U>:iy. p. Ci>
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 The abte Sicard, and the institution in behalf of the rle&i 
 and dumb. — His fa\'ourite pupil, Massieu.— Xxamination 
 of a young woman, who had become deai at six years 
 old. — Reflections on the establishmeut. p. 69' 
 
 LETTER VIL 
 
 A t/^e or evening part}'- — French remarks on Shak?peare 
 and Mr. Tox. — Dullness and pedantry of parisian so- 
 ciety, p. 74, 
 
 LETTER VIIL 
 
 Bonaparte. — The monthly review or parade in the court of 
 the Thuiiieiits. p. 8L 
 
 LETTER LX. 
 
 The tribunate.— Speech of Porfalis on presenting the code 
 civil ill the corps legisiatii.^Debate in the tribunate on 
 the same subject. j), 87- 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 'Bal des etrangers, (a public subscription ball). — Thinness 
 of the ladies' dresses. p. 92- 
 
 LETTER XL 
 Ifew yeax-'s day. — The Palais royal. p. <)R. 
 
 - LETTER XIL 
 
 -V insfitulion des travaitx des cxnigles^ or establishmeut iot 
 the support and employment of the blind. — Their different 
 occupations. — The plate glass manufactory. — Description 
 of another meeting at the hospital of the dear and dumb.-— 
 .^jlassieu taught gdvanzsm. and stenography.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 Tlie young savage, or wild boy of Aveyron. — His history. — 
 The state in which l>e was found, and the means used to 
 restore him to the use of his senses. — The success with 
 which these eflorts liave been attended. p. 10^ 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 Detailed account of all the theatres or spectacla. p. Il6. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 The pla^ of Henri/ IV, read by le Texier. p. 133- 
 
 LETTER XVL 
 
 party at afuurnisseur's. — Ball at a ci-devant noble'i. p. 137, 
 
 LETTER XVIL 
 
 A play acted for the first time, called " Edouard en Ecosse," the 
 hero of which was the english pretender, full of royalist 
 sentiments, performed twice, and highly applauded ; " God 
 save the King," played on the French stage ; plot of the 
 play, which was forbidden on the third day. p, 146\ 
 
 LETTER XV in. 
 
 The camiTal.—'Ma.sks in all the streets.— Account of the 
 different characters, processions, ^c.*— 'Masqued ball at 
 the opera house. p. 152c 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 Bonaparte's audience. — His address to the endish gentlemen 
 presented to him. — First ap]jearance, this seast^n, of Vtstrls. 
 -r-Madame de St I's concert, p. 158,
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 The antichainber of the Musce Central, now filled with ao 
 additional collection of fine piccuies. — Account of the 
 woiideriul recovery of some chefs-d'csuvre. — List of pic- 
 tures in this room. p. \66. 
 
 LETTER XXL 
 
 Bois (k- Boulogne. — Account of that promenade. — Order of 
 the police against cnglish footmen wearing la'ce-J cocked 
 hats. — Cannon fired in honour of the definitive treaty. — 
 Illuminations in the evening. — Little effect produced at 
 Paria by the peace. p. 175* 
 
 LETTER XXIL 
 
 The palais du Luxemhcurg. — Theatre d'Odton. — The pantheon 
 or St. Genevieve. — Tombs of Rousseau and Voltaire. ^' ~ 
 
 p. ISl. 
 
 LETTER XXIIL 
 
 Concordat with the Pope ratified by the legislative body 
 after an eloquent speech by Liicien Bonaparte. — Madame 
 Bonaparte's first drawing room. — Appearance of Dehayes 
 at the opera, after a long absence. p. 1S8. 
 
 LETTER. XXIV. 
 
 Versailles. — St. Cloud. — Sevre. — Petit Trianon. — Specimen 
 of an extravagant bill. — Curious trial. — St. Germain. — r 
 Malmaison. — -Waterworks of Marly. p. 192. 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 Long Champ, account of tiiat annual promenade, date of 
 
 ,its origin, ai;d of the great preparations made this year for 
 
 attending it. — I'he bustle and gayety which it produced at 
 
 Paris. p. 205. 
 
 I
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 Te Dcum sung at Notre Dame, in honour of the peace and 
 
 the reestablishment of religion. — Military insolence.— 
 
 Account of the ceremony.— Illuminations in the evening. 
 — Indifi'ereuce of the people. p. 213. 
 
 LETTER XXVIL 
 
 Falais dc Jusf ice. '—Account of the different tribunals or 
 courts of law. p. 222 
 
 ■^■^» 
 
 LETTER XXVIIL - 
 The gardens and walks of Paris. p. 227. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 The manufactory of Gobelins, the observatory, les En- 
 fans trouvts, Chavip de Mars, les Invulides, and the 
 temple of Mars, containing the colours taken from dif- 
 ferent nations, and the tomb of Turenne. — Le Musee dcs 
 Momimens fram^ois, or collection of monuments. — List of 
 the most esteemed of these. — Note to this letter contains 
 the account of a dmner at the first consul's. p. 235. 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 General account of literary establishments at Paris. — Na- 
 tional library. — Manuscripts. — Memoirs of his own times, 
 by Lewis XIV. — Fac simile of a love letter of Henry IV.— • 
 Cabinet of medals. — Cabuiet of engravings, &C. — Library 
 of the Pantheon. — I\Iazarnie librurv. — Library of the In- 
 stitute. Libraries of the senate, the legislative body, and 
 tribunate. — The Lycccs, now called les At/iaiees. — Admi- 
 rable lectures given at one of thein. — Professors i-'ourcroy, 
 Cuvier, and la Harpc. — L'Institute national. — Jardin 
 fiati'mal dts Plaiites. — Collection of birds, plants, fossils,
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 and insects, in the house attached to the Jardin des 
 J'lanfes. — Cabinet de I'Ecole des Mines, <i I'Hotel des 
 Monnoies. — Great opportunities aftbrded at Paris of culti- 
 vating science and literature in all their various branches. 
 
 p. 249. 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 Calculation and estimate of expenses at Paris. — List of 
 hotels, traiteurs, &c. p. 266. 
 
 LETTER XXXIL 
 
 General view of Paris, principally taken as compared with 
 Loudoa. p. 282a
 
 ROUGH SKETCH 
 
 or 
 
 MODERN PARIS. 
 
 LETTER L 
 
 Reflections on landing at Calais.-^Custom house officers, mu- 
 nicipality, commissaires, Dessein's, theatre.— Montreuil. 
 — L'hotel d'Angleterre at Amiens. — Chantilly, — State of 
 the roads. — Difificulty of getting lodgings at Paris.—- M. 
 Peregaux. 
 
 Paris, October the 30th, i8oi (4 biumaire, an 10.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 x\.T length, arrived in this celebrated city, 1 
 execute my promise in commencing a coirespon- 
 dence, which, on my part, shall in future be strictly 
 confined to the curiosities of the place. As I have 
 been only three hours at Paris, I shall in this 
 lirst letter speak of nothing but my journey. On 
 the 26th of October, I left the York house, at 
 Dover, (of which Payne is still the civil land- 
 lord); and embarking at one o'clock on board a 
 neutral vessel, which I was campelled to hire, 
 no english packet boat being yet allowed to 
 entsr the ports of France, found myself^ after 
 a safe and pleasant passage, at four, on the con- 
 tinent. Though I have before crossed the Chan- 
 
 B
 
 i2, LETTER T. 
 
 nel, and in as rapid a manner, I was forcibly 
 struck by the wonderful and almost maorical 
 change of situation M'hich tliis short voyage had 
 effected. Rising at my usual hour, I had break- 
 fasted, and walked about the streets of Dover, 
 surrounded l)y english faces and englisli customs. 
 The sun had not yet set, and I was now in a fo^ 
 reign country, and that country so lately the 
 enemy of mine, and the seat of such extraordi- 
 nary and many coloured events. I had chanjied 
 a monarchical for a republican government. I 
 saw a different people, different dresses, and 
 different countenances, and I M'as subject to dif- 
 ferent laws, and different customs. 
 
 As soon as the vessel entered the port of Ca- 
 lais, two custom house officers came on board, 
 in a military uniform ('for every fonctioiuuiire 
 public has here a regimental dress); and, after 
 taking the iiames of the passengers, one of them 
 retired, to nuike his report at the municipality, 
 while the other stayed to prevent our landinur, 
 till the retmn of his companion. In the mean 
 time, i\\Q jett'c, or pier, was crowded with spec- 
 tators, the greater part of whom were military 
 men, of different ranks and different descrip- 
 tions. Tlicv seemed hii^'hly amused in staring at 
 the dresses of the ladies, and in examininq- the 
 bo<ly of my carriage, which was hung on the 
 deck of the ship ; while we were ecjually enter- 
 tained with the i>rcat uwustachc-i- of the grena-
 
 LETTER I. 3 
 
 liadiers, tlie wooden sjioes of the peasants, and 
 the close caps of the griscttes. 
 
 At len^-th, monsieur dc la Douahie retLirned. 
 We were permitted to touch the tenitory of the 
 rcpubhc ; and, conducted by a guard of Dour^ 
 geois ("who, in thicir ch'e.ss, rather resemljled the 
 ragged regiment of Terence, than the renowi\e(l 
 warriors of France), we proceeded to the custom 
 house, from the custom house to the ifniuicipa* 
 litjj, and from the miiniapalittf to the commis' 
 ^aire's. 
 
 After undergoing examinations at eacli of 
 these odices, dehvering our passports, antl giv- 
 ing up our pocket books and letters (which 
 were returned the following day), \vc were at 
 last permitted to retire to our inn, the tattered 
 gu.ird, which accompanied us from the sliip, 
 having been previously dismissed. At six o'clock, 
 I sat down to an excellent dinner, at the cele- 
 brated hotel, formerly kept by Uessein, who is 
 now succeeded by his nephew, Quillacq, a very 
 respectable man, m'1:o met me at landing, and, 
 with the utmost civility and attention, took charge 
 of my carriage, baggage, &c. I wished to have 
 set out the following morning for Paris, but I 
 was informed that this was impossible, a-^, though 
 1 brought with me a passport from M. Talley- 
 rand, it was necessary to have this exchano:e(i 
 for one of the mayor of Calais, which latter 
 ^onld not be ^'^livered till late tlie following 
 
 B 2
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 day. I accordingly passed tuesday in this towity 
 which gave me an opportunity of visiting the 
 theatre, which is still at Dessein's. To the best 
 of niy recollection, there is no alteration in the 
 building since the war ; and, from-the darkness 
 of the liouse, I am inclined to think, that even 
 the painting has not been changed. The actors 
 are not very good, yet better than the generality 
 of our country performers in England. The 
 house was full, and the company well dressed. 
 In short, this amusement may be considered as 
 a very pleasant resource for travellers detained 
 at Calais, either by contrary winds, or by delays 
 in the delivery of passports. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, Mrs. • and my- 
 self proceeded with post horses. We found the 
 roads very bad, particularly near Boulogne; and, 
 if our conveyance had not been particularly 
 easy, ^ve should have suffered very severely from 
 the fatigues of the journey. It is necessary to 
 add, that nunierous workmen were employed in 
 every part of the roads in repairing and amend- 
 ing them. Probably, therefore, before next sum- 
 mer, the communication ])etween the two prin- 
 cipal cities of Europe wiil be restored to its 
 former excellence. At present, the roads have 
 ra:her the appearance of leading to some de- 
 serted village, than to the capital of ia granda 
 nation. The post horses are active and well-
 
 LETTER T. 5 
 
 fed, tlicir driveis civil, and tlie expense mo- 
 derate*. 
 
 Though we left Calais at break of day, and 
 did not s'.op either to breakfast or to dine,, we did 
 not reach Montreuil, v/here we proposed sleep- 
 ing the first night, till sunset. Here we found 
 excellent accommodations, at the inn celebrated 
 by Sterne. The house has, indeed, nothing to 
 recommend it, in point of outward show ; and, 
 in this respect, differs en ti-ely from the generality 
 of french hotels : but if comibrtable beds, su- 
 jjeriorly good cooking, and the smiling attention 
 of two veiy pretty girls, who act as waiters, are 
 any attractions, I can safely point out this inn, 
 as one at which my countrymen will do right to 
 .stop. 
 
 From jMontreuil we proceeded the next day, 
 through a fine country and bad roads, to Amiens. 
 The cultivation seemed good, and in the villages 
 through which we passed, the peasants M'cre 
 well chul. In the towns, the number of besofars 
 was as great as formerly. At every post, we 
 were surrounded with the old, the blind, and 
 the lame ; bome of whom, not satisfied with voci- 
 ferating tlieir complaints, actually climbed up the 
 springs of the carriage, and put their faces 
 
 * Three horses and a post boy cost six livres, or five 
 shillings per post. The post is two league?, or five miles 
 cnglish. 
 
 b3
 
 O LETTER I. 
 
 within the windows, more efTectually to dia\*- our 
 notice. 
 
 The waiters, post boy^^, and landlords, v,'ere 
 every where remarkably civil, and all expressed 
 their joy at seeing once ag-ain amongst tlieni 
 *' les milords An^lois'' by M'liich title tliev have 
 not forgotten to call, and to tax accordingly, all 
 english travellers. The people appear to me not 
 only civil, but respectful, and infinitely more so, 
 than before the revolution. The reason is plain, 
 the old }whlessc treated their inferiors with a 
 degree of familiarit}-, which produced in the latter 
 a mode of speakinp;, that, to an english ear, 
 seemed his'hlv offensive, but which the frencli 
 permitted, because they could check it at their 
 pleasure. The loss of their rank has now com- 
 pelled the higher classes to command respect by 
 a distance of manner, which has of course pro- 
 duced a similar conduct in the persons beneatli 
 them. 
 
 At Amiens, we drove to " Thotel d'Angle- 
 terre," where we were magnificently and mise- 
 rably lodged. Tine rooms, superbly furnished ; 
 windows and doors, which would neither Keep 
 put the rain nor -wind; bad fires, and a wor^e 
 supper, formed the complete picture of a french 
 inn, and the colouring of extravagant charges was 
 not omitted. 
 
 Starved with cold and hunger wt left x'Ymicns 
 bv brealv of dav, on fridav morninq;: and after
 
 LETTER I. 7 
 
 travclliiiQ: tlirouoh a country, tlie bcaiitv of which 
 increased every step M'ith the increasinij^ bathiess of 
 tlic roads, \vc at Icngtli icached Cliantilly, not a 
 little pleased at having escaj)ed the dangers of a 
 broken neck. At the post office, which is a 
 new inn, ])uilt since the levoliilion, directly front- 
 ing the park of the ci-devf/a/ chateau, \vc found 
 good beds, and a comfortable supper, prepared 
 by the kind attention of some cnij'lish friends, 
 M'ho had preceded us on the road. 
 
 Tlie following moining (the SOth), avc ^•isited 
 tlie ruins of this once niagnihcent spot. If 
 M-e had had often reason, during our journey, 
 to deplore the destructive effects of that nds- 
 taken spirit of ])retended philosophy, and ]ire- 
 tcnded patriotism, which had levelled with the 
 groujul tlic churches and country scats, the ruins 
 of which rcniindcd us, in every village, of the 
 excesses committed during the revolution ; we 
 made these reflections A\ith double force, and 
 double regret, in \icwino- what was once the 
 palace of C'hantilly. 'Ihc j)rincipal building is 
 entirely pulled down ; but /c pc/it chatmii, and 
 the sujxrb edihcc of the stal)le, still remain. 
 'Jhis latter was saved by the t>rdcrs of the pre- 
 sent go\"ernme-nt, who forbade its being sold ; 
 and tiie mistress of the inn, v. itli tears in her 
 eyes, accpiainted me, that li.'id Boua[)arte l)eeri 
 at the head of public affairs six months sooner, 
 tiic ])alace also would hii\c been rescued froin
 
 LETTER I, 
 
 destruction. That extraordinary man visited 
 Chantilly after the sale, hut before the demolition 
 of the building. He heard that the purchaser 
 had ordered it to be i)ulled down — he expressed 
 his regret ; but, at that time, he had no means of 
 preventing what he sincerely deplored. 
 
 The stables, though unhurt, are neglected and 
 dirty. They contain, at present, a regiment of ca- 
 valry. The woods have also been greatly thinned ; 
 the garden no longer exists; and, altogether, 
 Chantilly presents rather the picture of decayed 
 magnificence; than that of actual beauty. 
 
 On leaving this once celebrated place, we 
 found a fine paved road all the way to Paris, 
 The regular avenue of hills, the rich country, 
 the vineyards, the villas, and the carriages of all 
 descriptions which we met, announced an apr 
 proach to the capital, at the gates of which we 
 arrived at tM'o o'clock. 
 
 Here, and at Boulogne, we were asked very 
 civilly for our passports, which were instantly 
 returned us. These were the only interruptions 
 or examinations which we experienced, during 
 the whole of our journey. Carriages are not 
 stopped, as formerly, at every town, to be searched 
 for contraband goods, but, en revanche, turn- 
 pikes are numerous and expensive. The inns 
 are nearly as dear as those of England ; and it 
 is, now not less necessary, than under the anckn 
 regime, to make a previous bargain, before t?ie
 
 LETTER I. 9 
 
 horses are taken from tlie cariiaa^e. 1^ this is 
 not done, impositions and disputes are sure to 
 occur. 
 
 On arriving at Paris, [ drove to several hotels, 
 before I could get acconinjoihited at all. i am 
 now wretcliediy lodged, and fear, from what I 
 have already seen and heard, that I must waste 
 a considerable portion of valual)le time, before 
 I shall obtain such apartments as I wish. Good 
 I'ooms are very scarce, many of tlie Jtd^eh garnis 
 having been unfurnished during the revolution, 
 and those which remain being nearl\ rilled with 
 foreigners, mIio, since the peace, have flocked 
 hither in great numbers, from every nation of the 
 M'orld. 
 
 Persons, in*-ending to visit Paris, ought to write 
 some days before hand to their correspondents, 
 if they desire to be comfortably lodged on their 
 arrival. 
 
 Adieu, my friend. I have now given you a 
 full account of my journey. I say nothing of 
 Paris, or its inhabitants, the only person 1 have 
 yet seen beino- ]\I. Pere:i.aux, mv bauKcr. Jfis 
 new dignity of scnattur lias made no alteiation 
 in his conduct. He is as civil, and as obliging as 
 ever. 
 
 As soon as I have seen any thing worth com- 
 municatin":, I shall wiite aoam. In the mean 
 time, I take my leave. And 
 
 Am, &c.
 
 ( 10 ) 
 
 LKTTEIl II. 
 
 Tiic palace and ganieiis of the Thuilienos. — The Lonvrr.— • 
 TliC jiii.'ste ccuiral dcs arts, or picture ^^allerv. — Maria Cosunt/, 
 — Gallery of antiquities. — Apollo Belvidere. — Laocof>ii,— 
 List of picturt's. 
 
 Paris, novemberthe 6th, l8oi (15 brumairi, an 10.) 
 MY DE.VR SIR, 
 
 Having in my last letter given the details 
 of my journey, I shall proceed to speak in this of 
 what I have already seen at Paris. 'I'hc first ob- 
 jects of curiosity to wliicli my steps were directed, 
 were of course the Thuilleries and tlie Louvre. 
 Of the garden of the former it is dilficult to say 
 any tldng at this unfavourable season of tlie year. 
 It appears, however, to have undergone but little 
 alteration, and to have received the addition.al 
 ornament of several statues, which are scattered 
 about the grounds. The enateau or ])aiace of the 
 Thuilleries is also unchanged in that part of.it 
 which faces the garden, but the appearance of the 
 great front, (I mean tliat towards tlie Carousel,) 
 is much improved, and has l/ecomc strikingly mag- 
 nificent, it promises to be still n^.ore so, when 
 t!ie whole of the projected amendments are com- 
 pleted. Vfhcn I last visited Paris, a number of 
 .sHKiii lioiises surrounded the palace, and seemed 
 to conceal it from the profane eye of the vulgar.
 
 LETTER ir. II 
 
 Tlic greater part of tliese houses are already 
 ^)ulle(l down, and the galh ly of tlie Louvre, uo 
 longer kc\)t from v'u'W, forms a magnificent side 
 to the spacious court hy which the ]>ahicc is ap- 
 proached, and iu wliich the first consul reviews 
 Ids troops, on the 1.5th of every month. This 
 court is separated from the street, by a beautiful 
 iron railing, the four gates of whiclj areornamentcd 
 witli I i^e celebrated horses taken from Venice, and 
 witli tlic l)irds (I heliLve cocks) which, in imi- 
 tation of the roman eagles, the french republic 
 has adopted as her distinguishing symbol. I'he 
 opening is already extended as far as In rue St. 
 Aicaise. Houses are daily pulled down, and I 
 understand it is the intention of the present go- 
 xcrnmcnt to clear away ail the remaining ob- 
 {stacles, which separate the [)alace of the Louvre 
 fioni that of the Thuilleries. \\'hen this great 
 plan is fnliy executed, the residence of tlie lir.-vt 
 ronsnl will greatly exceed iu magnificence all tiie 
 palaces of ]uirope. 
 
 In the Louvre is sitnatcd the museum or 
 7nustr cen/ral dcs arts. 'J his snjK'rb collection, 
 without exception the finest in the world, occu- 
 ]>ies a room equally unrivalled, covering a sj)ace 
 at least equal to a tjiiartcr of an cnglish mile. 
 The antichamber* to this vast gallery is at pre- 
 
 * 'I'lif room ill qiirstion Iinr>, since tliis u-us written, been 
 lEOUvcited to ;. iKltcr up. Vide lettkh xx.
 
 12 LETTER II. 
 
 sent filled with a modern exhibition of paintings, 
 ■^vhicb, indii'lerent in themselves, become still 
 more contemptible by an involuntarv, though 
 perhaps unfair, comparison, Mdiich one is led 
 to make between the artists of our times, and 
 those ot our ancestors. An excellent likpness in 
 fall length of madame Bonaparte, and a beautiful 
 miniature of a fatJici^ and a son, by Isaheif, were 
 the only objects which attracted my attention. 
 Mv impatience soon carried me forward. At 
 lenirth I found nivself in tlie majrnificent room, 
 which I ha\e before mentioned, the walls of which 
 are covered as far as the eye can reach M-ith 
 the sublimest efforts of human art. Vvliere the 
 Riind has long le^n promised a pleasure, wdien 
 fancy has dressed it in all her choicest colours, 
 how seldom does ths reality approach the phantom 
 of heated imagination ! For once I was not dis- 
 appointed. I expected it is true, a high gratifi- 
 cation. I had formed to myself an exalted idea 
 of the obiects, which I v.-as about to visit, yet 
 tlie- satisfaction I felt exceeded, far exceeded, 
 what I supposed it possi!)lc for the power of sight 
 to afford; nor did I believe that the hand oF man 
 was capable of attaining that degree of perfec- 
 tion, which I now behehl. For some tinie I was 
 lost in wonder, I knew not W'here to fix my en- 
 raptured eye. A catalogue w^hich was offered 
 me. l.)V one of the attendants, and -which as I 
 afterwards found, is drawn up with great clear- 
 
 I
 
 LETTER II. 13 
 
 ness and precision, roused n^.e from tliis pleasing 
 reverie, and o-ave some order to the train of mv 
 thousrlits. The arrano-ement of the collection is 
 admirable. 
 
 After viewing the masterpieces of la Sueur, 
 le Erun, Nicolas Poussin, and the three Van 
 I^oos, I supposed I hud already seen the utmost 
 efforts of the art, and even, under this supposi- 
 tion, was ready to allow that my highest ideas of 
 the power of painting fell short of what these spe- 
 cimens presented. Think of my surprise, when, 
 looking on my catalogue, I found that I had not 
 yet passed the limjts of the frcnch school. As- 
 tonished and delighted I v/ent on. The flemish, 
 dutch, and german masters occupy the second 
 division. Among them I beheld the exquisite 
 works of Van Dvck, of Hans Holbein, of Paul 
 
 ft 
 
 Potter, of Rembrant, ofTenicrs, and of Rubens. 
 Sublime as were the first objects that had claimed 
 my admiration, even they v/ere exceeded by the 
 latter. Nor had I yet seen the acinc of tbc art- 
 Charmed with the fancy and execution of all tlie 
 flemish painters, I was parti cidarly pleased witli 
 the beautiful pasturage, by Paul Potter, every 
 object of which seems alive on the canvass. 
 
 A few steps woukl bring me in view of the 
 •woi;flers of Italy, to see wliicli so many of my 
 countrymen had crossed the Alps; yet so enrap- 
 tured was I with the objects already before me, 
 that it required all the importunity of my conir
 
 14 LETTER, ir. 
 
 panions, to persuade ine to proceed. I was soo:t 
 rewarded for this temporary sacrifiee, and in con- 
 templating the almost supernatural works of Cor- 
 rco'io, of Caravagjrjo, of the Caracci, of Domi- 
 nichino, of Guido, of Leonardo da Vinci, of 
 Paul Veronese, of Raphael and of Titian, I dis- 
 covered, that M'liat I liad seen before were only 
 ^o many links in the great chain of perfection, 
 which was now complete. If among these model.^ 
 of the art, you wish me to name some particuia? 
 picture, 1 should give the preference to the com- 
 munion of St. Jerome, bv Dominichino, which 
 in expression, colouring, ieeling, and viricryy 
 seems to mc to possess every beauty united. 
 
 Before I quit a subject so interes^iup- in everv 
 respect, I ouglit to mention, that this assemblage 
 of the c/icfs-d'ccuvre of Ibrmcr times, beoins al- 
 ready to iiold out the piomise of improvuig the 
 taste of modern painters. I saw artists of I^otk 
 sexes, occupied in taking copies of the most cele- 
 brated subjects ; and as i.-uriosity led me to observe 
 some of these unfinished attempts, I discovered, 
 witii infinite pleasure, that the figures, and even 
 tiic countenances of the most strikino: objects, 
 ^vcre in several instances successfully imitated- 
 It is indeed, almost impossible, that tiie study of 
 such unrivalled works should be pursued, v/itkout 
 considerable benefit to :he individual, and im- 
 provement to the art. 1 o me it appears higlily 
 probable, that, assisted by the great racilitics and
 
 LETTER II. 15 
 
 advantages wliicli this o':illery aftbrds, paintiupj 
 will, ill the course of twenty years, reeover all 
 its tbrmer splendour. 
 
 An English lady*, who has lont^ very deservedly 
 enjoyed a considerable j)oriioii ot" jniblic praise, 
 is now employed in co[)yincv the principal pictures 
 in the niuseuni ; and from her design ;, prints are 
 to be published, the proposals for which are al- 
 ready circulated at Paris. If she should execute 
 her plan as well as one has reason to expect from 
 lier known talents, the collection will become 
 highly valuable and interesting, not only to those 
 who have seen the originals, but likewise to such 
 as iiave not had tiiat advantaire. 
 
 The music, like every other establishment of 
 the kind in tiiis town, is conducted on principles 
 of liberalitv, tiulv honourable to the o-ovcrnnienr 
 and the nation. The gallery is open to foreigners 
 and artists, everv day of the vear : but to the 
 
 * Maria Cosway. Hsr plan is to tollow th;; urrarii^cmcnt of 
 the gallery, aiui to devote one copper-plate Lo e;uii of the 
 fifty-seven grand division? or compartments, of wiiich it at 
 prrsentcOM'iiit'', engaging to continue her work, aa the collec- 
 tiou sh.iU be increased. The size of the copi^er-pbitc is to be 
 twentv-one inches hi<»h, and seventeen wide. The numbers are 
 to appear montlily, and each i^ to contain two en:;raviiigs, 
 ^ with an hiitorical description ol tiie subjects, atid the artists, 
 by J. Griflith.3. Didol tlie elder, in the Palais royal, recei>.-es 
 her subscription,. Coloured proofi cost thirty-si.x livr^s, anJ 
 plain ones twer.ty-four.
 
 16 LETTER rr. 
 
 public, only once or twice in each week. No 
 fee or recompense is either required, expected, 
 or received by any of the attendants ; and the 
 exquisite pleasure of contemplating these sub- 
 lime pictures, for which indeed it would be diffi- 
 cult to fix any adequate price, is enjo^'cd gratui- 
 tously*. 
 
 The gallery of antiquities, containing statues, 
 busts, and basso-relievoes, is immediately under 
 the gallery of pictures. It is divided into la salle 
 des soisonSy la salle cits hommes ilhistres, la salle 
 des Romains, la salle de Laocoon, la salle de VA- 
 pollon, et la salle des Aluses. 
 
 Were I to attempt an account of all these 
 statues, my letter wouhl never end. I shall there- 
 fore only mention tnose by which the rest, however 
 excellent, are rendered petty, and contemptible, 
 in comparison with them. I mean the Apolb 
 
 * I ought perhaps to mention, that judges cf painting have 
 frequently, in m} heanng, complained of the double light in 
 which the pictures are :A^en in tliis gallery. Individually 
 speaking, I was always duririg the very many times when I 
 visited this museum --o amused, and so delighted, that I had 
 fio inclination to criticise; but it is certainly true, that on some 
 days the pictures were seen to greater advantage than cii 
 others. The windows of the gallery are directly opposite to 
 one another, and the paintmgs are hung on the piers betweeM 
 them. The glare which this circumstance produces, js the 
 cause of the objection I have named.
 
 LETTER tXi 17 
 
 Behidej'e, and tlie Laocoon*. These master- 
 pieces of human ingenuity aVe also sf) ^rell known, 
 and have been so well described, that T shall 
 confine my remarks to tlieir present state and 
 present situation. The Apollo seems to have 
 received no injury from the journey, and hi:- as 
 just claims as ever to the preeminence which, 
 for so many centuries, has been allowed it. rid 
 I not fear to appear presumptuous in hinting ut 
 any defect in a statue, esteemed so perfect, I 
 should say, that the ancles v/ere rather too thick, 
 in proportion to the rest of the leg, and to the 
 general lightness of the figure. I should have 
 concealed my criticism, if a friend, on whose 
 judgment and knowledge I can rely, had not 
 assured me, that the objection was not novel, 
 and that many connoisseurs have suspected that 
 the legs are modern. 
 
 Not having had the happiness of seeing this 
 wonderful statue in Italy, I cannot draw a com- 
 ))arison between the spot ^^ here it formerly stood, 
 and that which it at uresent cccunies. I cer- 
 tainly think, that it is not now seen to the 
 greatest advantage. The room is not either high 
 or large enough for the purpose, and too many 
 statues are crowded tomther. — The AnoUo Bel- 
 
 * Next to the Apollo and the Laocoon, the most cele-' 
 brated statue is the Dying Gladititor, the copies of whicU 
 are dispersed over ahnoit every co ntry in Europe.
 
 18 LETTER II. 
 
 videre stands between the Venus d' Aries and ano- 
 ther female figure, within a railed space of no 
 great dimensions. The catalogue gives the follow- 
 ing history : 
 
 " No. 145. APOLLON PYTHIEN, 
 DIT APOLLON DU BELVIDERE. 
 
 (After describing the statue and the subject). 
 
 " Cette statue la plus sublime de celles que 
 le terns nous ait conservees, a 6t^ trouv^e, vers la 
 fin du quinzieme si^cle, k Capo d'Anzo^ k douze 
 lieues de Rome, sur le rivage de la mer, dans les 
 ruines de I'antique Antium, cite cel^bre et par 
 son temple de la Fortune, et par les maisons de 
 plaisance, que les empereurs y avaient 61ev6es 
 a Tenvi, et em bellies de plus rares chefs- 
 d'oeuvres de Tart. Julius II, n'^tant encore que 
 cardinal, fit I'acquisition de cette statue, et la fit 
 placer d abord dans le palais qu'il habitait pr^s 
 Feglise de Santi Apostoli. Mais bientot apr^s 
 ^tant parvenu au pontificat, il la fit transporter 
 au Bek'idere du Vatican, ou depuis trois si^cles 
 elle faisait Tadmiration de Tunivers, lorsqu'un 
 h^ros, guid6 par la victoire est venu Ten tirer, 
 pour la conduire et la fixer k jamais sur les rives 
 de la Seine. 
 
 *' On ionorc entierement le nom de I'auteur 
 de cct inimitable chef-d'oeuvre. L'avant-bras
 
 LETTER ir. 19 
 
 droit et la main gauche qui manquaient ont h6 
 restaur^s par GiovaDTii Angelo da Montorsoli, 
 bculpteur el^ve de Michael Ange." 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 " THE PYTHIAN APOLLO, 
 
 CALLED 
 
 " THE APOLLO BELVIDERE, 
 
 "This statue, the most sublime of those which 
 time has preserved, was found, towards the con- 
 clusion of the fifteenth century, at Capo (VAnzOf 
 twelve leagues from Rome, on the sea shore, 
 near the ruins of the ancient Antium, a city no 
 less celebrated for its temple of Fortune, than 
 for the elegant seats, which the different em- 
 perors, emulous of each other, had built there, 
 and ornamented witli all the rarest works of art. 
 Julius II, while yet but a cardinal, bought this 
 statue, and placed it first in the palace where be re- 
 sided, near the church of the Holy Apostles. When 
 be became sovereign pontiff", he ordered it to be 
 conveved to the Belvidere of the Vatican, where 
 for three centuries it excited the admiration of 
 the universe. A hero, guided by victory, drew 
 it from the Vatican ; and, transporting it to the 
 banks of the Seine, has fixed it there for ever. 
 
 " The name of the artist, who made this in- 
 imitable chef-d'oeuvre, is unknown. The right arm, 
 
 c 2
 
 20 LETTER II. 
 
 and the left hand, which were wanting", were 
 restored by the sculptor, Giovanni Angtb da 
 Montorsoli, pupil of Michael Angelo." 
 
 I hope, my friend, you admire the modesty 
 with which it is declared, that the Apollo is for 
 ever fixed on the banks of the Seine ! — After the 
 singular fate which this statue has experienced, 
 it required all that happy confidence, with which 
 the frencli determine the most difficult questions 
 in their own favour, to make so bold an assertion. 
 The Apollo lay two thousand years under the 
 ruins of Antium, and yet preserved its beauty. 
 It was drawn thence, placed in the Vatican, and 
 after receiving there, for three centuries, the 
 applauses of mankind, is carried over the Alps, 
 and seen at Paris in all its original symmetry. 
 If it be the destiny of this matchless figure to 
 follow the tide of fortune, and to change ics 
 residence with the changes of empire, and the 
 casualties of human affairs, wlio shall decio'e 
 ■where it niay next be found? If Julius II, whca 
 he placed the Apollo in the V^atican, had been 
 told, that, three hundred jears afterward, a 
 french warrior would attach it to his car of vic- 
 tory, in entering the city of Paris, would even the 
 pope himself have had faith enough to believe such 
 a prophecy? After this, no conjecture becomes 
 imjjrobable. Who knows, that this celebiatecl 
 statue may not, some centuries hence, be di*co-
 
 LETTER ir. 21 
 
 veiTfl on the frozen plains of Siberia, or in the 
 burning sands of Eg'vpt ? 
 
 ■^he subject of the Laocoon is so pathetic, 
 hnd the execution so admirable, that tlie group 
 Aviiich it piTsents, is, as the catalogue well ob- 
 serves, a specimen, at once, of composition, art, 
 and feeling-. The followino- is the historical ac- 
 count of this statne : 
 
 "11 a ete trouv^ en }506, sous le pontificat 
 tie Jnlins II, a Home sur Ic mont Esquilin, dans 
 les mines du palais de Titus, contigu i\ ses 
 thermes. Pline qui en a parl6 avec admiration, 
 I'avait vu dans ce meme endroit. C'est ;\ cct 
 ecrivain que nous devons la connoissance rles 
 trois habiles scnlpteurs Hhodiens qui font exe- 
 cute, ils s'appellaient Ag^sandrc, Polydore, et 
 Athenodore. Agesandre etoit probablement le 
 pere des deux autres, ils florissaient au premier 
 siecle de fere vulgaire. La groupe est compos6 
 de cin(] blocs si artistement r^unis, que Pline fa 
 cru d'an scul. Le bras droit du pt^re et deux: 
 bras des enfans manquent. Sans doute un joar 
 on les cxecutera en marbre. Mais provisionnclle- 
 ment on les a suj)pli6s par des bras moul^-s sur 
 la groujic eu platre, rcstaure par Gerardon, qui 
 se voitdans lasallc de I'^colc de peinture." 
 
 TRAySLATloy. 
 
 " It was found in 1506, under the pontificate of 
 Julius II, at Iconic, on the Esquilinc mount, in the 
 
 c3
 
 22 LETTISH II. 
 
 ruins of the palace of Titus, near his tlwrmte, o<r 
 Iiot baths. Pliny, who speaks of this statue with 
 admiration, had seen it in the same place. It is 
 to this writer we are indebted for the knowledge 
 of the three able sculptors of Rhodes, who exe- 
 cuted this masterpiece. Their names were, Age- 
 sander, Polydorus, and Athenodorus. It is probable, 
 that the first of these was the father of the other 
 two. They flourished during tlie first century of 
 the common era. The group consists of five 
 pieces of marble, joined in so workmanlike a 
 manner, that Pliny thought the whole was of one. 
 The right arm of the father, and two of the arms 
 of the children, are wanting. They will, no 
 doubt, be executed liereafter in marble; in the 
 mean time, the deficiency is supplied by arms 
 moulded on the group in plaister of Paris, the 
 work of Gerardon, which is to be seen in the 
 ball of the school of painting." 
 
 In taking leave of the gallery of statues, I 
 cjught, perhaps, in answer to several in^quiries, 
 which have been made me in letters from Eng- 
 land, to mention, that the Hercules Far)iese^ and 
 the V€72us dc Uledki, are not in the collection. 
 A british officer, lately returned from Egypt by 
 way of Italy, tells me, that both these statues are 
 at present in the island of Sicily. They are in 
 the possession of the king of Naples, who keeps 
 
 5
 
 LETTER IT. 23 
 
 them locked up in cases, and refuses permission, 
 even to his greatest favourites, to see them. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 I add, for the sake of gratifying the curiosity of such of your 
 friends as are connoisseurs, and wish to know where their 
 favourite pictures may be found, a list of those of the most 
 celebrated masters, now in the Louvre. 
 
 FRENCH SCHOOL. 
 
 CHARLES LE BRUN. 
 
 No, 9. The Courage of Mutius bcsevola. 
 
 10. The Death of Cato. 
 
 11. Portrait of Charles le Brun, taken in his youth, 
 
 by himself. 
 
 12. St, Stephen stoned. 
 
 13. The Magdalen at the Pharisee's, 
 
 14. Jesus asleep, or Silence. 
 
 15. The Benedicite. 
 
 16. The Cross surrounded with Angels. 
 iT' The Defeat of Porus. 
 
 18. The Tent of Darius, 
 
 19. The Entry of Alexander into Babylon. 
 
 20. The Death of Meleager, king of Calydon. 
 
 21. The Conquest of Frauche-Compte. — (The sketch 
 
 from which le Brun drew the celebrated picture, 
 in the great gallery at Versailles.) 
 
 22. The Nativity. 
 
 NICHOLAS P0U5SIN, 
 
 No. 67' The Martyrdom of St. Erasmus, the Bishop. 
 
 68. The Philistines attacked with the Plague. 
 
 69. The Rape of the Sabines. 
 
 70. The Fall of Manna in the Deucrt. 
 
 C 4
 
 24. LETTER J I. 
 
 No. 71. Time makes Truth triumph. 
 
 72. llie Last Supper. 
 
 73. St. Francis Xavier in India. 
 
 7 if- St. John Baptising in the river Jordan. 
 
 73. Rebecca and Eliezer. 
 
 76. Diogenes throwing away his Cup. 
 
 77. The Judgment of Solomon. 
 7S. The Blind Men of Jericho, 
 
 79' Portrait of Poussin, taken by himself. 
 
 SO. The Adultress. 
 
 81. The Death of Sappbira. 
 
 S2. Winter, or the Deluge. 
 
 83. The Death of Eur^-dice. 
 
 84. The Holy Family. 
 
 85. The Assumpiipn of the Virgin. 
 
 RESTOUT. 
 
 Kg. SS. Alpheus and Arethusa. 
 
 LE SUEUS. (EUSTACHE.) 
 
 Ko. 98. The Preaching of St. Paul at Ephesus, 
 99- The Descent from the Cross. 
 100. The Celebration of ^^lass by St. Martir. 
 3 01. St. Gervais and St. Protais. 
 
 102. Clio, the Muse of History. 
 Euterpe, the ^luse of Music. 
 Thalia, the Muse of Comedy. 
 
 103. Calliope, the Muse of Epic Poetry. 
 
 104. Urania, the ^Nluse of Astronomy. 
 
 105. Terpsichore, the JSlust; of Dancing. 
 
 106. Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy. 
 Er.:- , the Muse of Lyric Poetry. 
 Polyhymnia, the Muse of Eloquence.
 
 LETTER II. 25 
 
 VAN LOO (carlo.) 
 
 Ko. 115. /"Eneas and Ancliises. 
 
 i\6. The Maniage of the V^irgin. 
 
 VAN LOO (JOHN BAPTISTE.) 
 
 J?o. 117. Diana and Endymicn. 
 
 VAN LOO (LOUIS MICHAEL.) 
 
 No. IIS. The PicUire of Carlo van Loo, the historical painter. 
 DUTCH, FLEMISH, AND GERMAN SCHOOL. 
 
 CHAMPAGNE (PHILIP OF.) 
 
 No. 212. The Archbishop of Milan, St. Ambrose. 
 
 213, The carrying the Bodies of St. Gervais and St. 
 Protais, from the spot where they were found, 
 to the cathedral of Milan, by order of the Arch- 
 bishop. 
 
 214'. A dead Christ extended on the Bier. 
 
 215. The Slipper. 
 
 216. The Nuns. 
 
 217. Philip of Champagne, painted by himself, in 1668, 
 
 at the age of 60 years. 
 
 CLAISSENS (ANTONY.) 
 
 No. 218. The Judgment of Cambyscs. 
 
 2iy. Canibyses orders an unjust Judge to be flayed alive, 
 directing his skin to be turned into a cover for the 
 bench of his successor. 
 
 DURER (albert ) 
 
 No. 219- The Portrait of a Geometrician. 
 250. The Portrait of a Musician. 
 25J. A Crucifix.
 
 S6 LETTER ir. 
 
 DYCK (ANTONY VAK.) 
 
 No. 252. Christ lying dead in the Arms of the Virgin : lieaf' 
 him are St. Magdulen and St. John. 
 
 253. St. Augustin in a Swoon. 
 
 254. Charles the First, king of England. — (A delightful 
 
 picture.) 
 
 255. The Mother of Pity. 
 
 256". Francis of Moncade, Marquis d'Aylonue, governor 
 of the Netherlands for Philip the Fourth. — This 
 man was both a warrior and an historian. 
 
 2bl . St. Martin cutting his Cloak, in order to give half 
 of it to a poor Man. — (This is one of the most 
 interesting pictures in the whole collection.) 
 
 258. Antony van Dyck. 
 
 259. Co?nte de Luck, holding an orange in his hand. 
 
 260. Half-length Picture of a Man, with his hand on 
 
 his breast. 
 
 261. The Picture of a Man in Black. 
 
 262. The Ex-voto and the Virgin. 
 26.3. Jesus carrying his Cross. 
 
 264. The Portraits of Charles the First, Elector Palatine, 
 and Prince Robert hjs Brother, both in military 
 dresses. 
 
 255. ThePortraitof aManon Foot, holding his daughter, 
 who is on horseback, by the hand. 
 
 ^66. The Portrait of a Lady and her Son. 
 
 267. The half-length Portrait of a Man of 37, having a 
 
 glove on his left hand. 
 
 268. Half-length Portrait of a young Woman, with a fan 
 
 of feathers in her hand. 
 
 269. John Richardot (president of the privy council of 
 . the Netherlands), one of the negotiators sent by 
 
 the king of Spain to Vervins — died in I609. 
 
 270. Portrait, in the shape of a bust, of a Man in a 
 
 black Cloak.
 
 LETTER IT. 27 
 
 Ko. 271. Venus soliciting from Vulcan Arms for iEneas. 
 
 272. 'I'he taking down from the Cross, a sketch. 
 
 I)yCK(PHILlF van) called the little van r>YCK, PU?IL 
 
 OF ARNOLD BOONEN. 
 
 No. 270. B. Sarah presenting Agar to Abraham. 
 
 '271. B. Ag;ir repudiated by Abraham, at the instigation 
 
 of Sarah. 
 '272. B. Judith giving to hrr Maid the Head of Holo- 
 
 phernes. 
 
 273. \ Woman at her Toilet. 
 
 274. A young Woman playing on the Guitar. 
 
 GY2EN (PETER.) 
 
 No. 295. A Village Holiday. — (A very laughable pictuo;.) 
 
 HOLBEIN (HANS OR JOHN) PUPIL OF JOHN HOLBEIN, HIS 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 No. 313. The Portrait of a Man, with a black Cat. 
 
 314. Thomas Moore (lord chancellor of England) be- 
 
 headed by order of Henry VIH. 
 
 315. T!ie Portrait of a young Man carrying a Hawk. 
 316". Tlie bacritice of Abraham. 
 
 317. A young Woman in a Necklace of Pearls, and a 
 
 red Jacket. 
 
 318. Erasmus. 
 
 319. A young Woman with a yellQw Veil. 
 
 320. Robert Cheeseman, at the age of 48, with a H.iwk. 
 
 321. Muster Nicholas Kratzcr, astronomer of Henry VHI 
 
 of England, 
 
 322. The Archbishop of Canterbury, painted in 1528, at 
 
 the age of 70. 
 
 323. Ann ol Cleves, wife of Henry VHI of England. — 
 
 (Henry the eighth married her on seeing this 
 picture, but repudiated her six months after,
 
 28 LETTER TI. 
 
 finding that her beauty by no means equalled 
 that which had been givtn her by the painter.) 
 Ko. 324. The Portrait, in miniature, of Erasmus. 
 
 PAUL POTTER. 
 
 Ko.^446. Landscape, with Cattle.— (This is the picture iit 
 which I particularly admired the exact and wonder- 
 ful imitation of Nature.) 
 
 447. AMcaJo^v. 
 
 448. A Meadow watered by a River, in which animals 
 
 are drinking and men bathing. — (This is a charm- 
 ing picture.) 
 
 440. Oxen iiud Pigs in a Pasture, near a cottage. 
 
 4 jO. Two Horses at a Trough, near the door of a public 
 house. A man brings them water. 
 
 451. A Field. — In the front, three cows are standing 
 under an oak ; and, on the left, an ox with white 
 and black spots. 
 
 REMBRANDT (VAN RYN PAUL.) 
 
 No. 455. The Head of a Man, with a hat ornamented with 
 black feathers. 
 45(). Portrait of Rembrandt in his youth, taken by 
 himself. 
 
 457. The Head of a Woman, dressed in long ear-rings, 
 
 and a fur cloak. 
 
 458. The good Sam'aritan. 
 
 45f). The Head (;f an old Man with a long beard, who is 
 
 also bald. 
 4^0. A Je-.vish Bride. 
 
 461. The Head of a young Man with a blackcap, and 
 
 a golden chain round his neck. 
 
 462. The meditating Philosopher. 
 
 463. The contemplating Philosopher. 
 
 464. Small Head of a Mail, "tfrcssed m a straw bonnel.
 
 LETTER II. 29 
 
 "No. i65. The Family of a Joiner. 
 
 46"6. Tobias and Family prostrate before the angel 
 
 Raphael, who disappears from their sight, after 
 
 making himself known. 
 467. Susannah at the Bath. 
 
 46s. The Pilgrims of Emans, and the breaking of Bread. 
 4-69. The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. 
 
 470. St. Matthew, the Evan.gelist. 
 
 471. The Portrait of Rembrandt, in a more advanced 
 
 period of Ihe than that of 4 jO'. 
 
 472. Venus and Cupid. 
 
 473. An old Man at his Meditations. 
 
 HUBENS (peter PAUL.) 
 
 No. 479. The Education of Mary of Medici. 
 4S0. The Lying in of Mary of Medici. 
 
 His celebrated picture of the Assumption has lately 
 been put up in the Mmce. 
 48 1. The Happiness of Peace. 
 
 508. Adriana de Peres, \\ife of ?»Iicholas Rockox, mar- 
 ried in 15S(), died in 1615). 
 50p. The Crucifixion of St, Peter. 
 
 ilO. Christ on the Cross, between the two Thieve?, at 
 the moment when t!ie centurion wounds him iu 
 the side, 
 ill. The Last Supper. 
 
 512. The Adoration of the Kings, larger than life. 
 
 513. St. Roch interceding for the Persons afflicted with 
 
 the Plague. 
 
 514. St. Roch fed by his Dog. 
 
 N. B. I particularly recommend these last six pic- 
 tures to your attention. They are more thaa 
 commonly beautiful. 
 
 515. St. Roch cured of the Plague by an Angel, 
 51(7. Christ dead in the AjuaS of his Father.
 
 30 LETTER II. 
 
 No. 517. The Adoration of the Wise Men. — (An admirable 
 picture.) 
 
 518. The Beheading of St. John the Bi ptist. 
 
 519. St. John the Evangelist thrown into a Copper of 
 
 boihng Oil. 
 
 520. The Portrait of a Woman, dressed in a hat, an4 
 
 holding a bunch of roses in her ht;nd. 
 
 521. Another Portrait of a Woman in black, her head 
 
 uncovered, and her hands crossed. 
 
 522. The Nativity of our Saviour, a sketch. 
 
 523. The Resurrection of Christ, a sketch. 
 
 524-. Lot and his Family leaving Sodom, led by au 
 
 Angel. 
 525. The Virgin and the Infant Jesus, surrounded with 
 
 Innocents. This is called the Virgin and the 
 
 Angels. 
 525. The Kernesse, or Village Holiday. — (A very curious 
 
 picture.) 
 
 527. The Descent from the Cross. 
 
 528. The Miraculous Draught of Fishes. 
 
 529. The Apostles finding in the Mouth of a Fish, the 
 
 Piece of Money necessary for the Payment of the 
 Tribute. 
 "530. The Angel, making the Young Tobias angle for 
 the Fish, the gall of which was to restore his 
 Father's sight. 
 
 531. The Portrait of a Princess, who appears to be Eliza- 
 
 beth of Bourbon, Daughter of Henry the IVth, and 
 Wife of Philip, King of Spain, 
 
 532. The Triumph of Pomona. 
 
 533. Venus and Adonis. 
 
 534. A View of Malines. 
 
 535. A View of Cadi2.
 
 LETTER If. 31 
 
 TENIFRS (the YOUNGER DAVID.) 
 
 No. 575. The Smoker. 
 
 576. Tiie Grinder. 
 
 577. Country people dancing to the sound of the 
 
 Bagpipe. 
 57s. The Works of Charity. 
 579. The Village Wedding. 
 5 SO. The Preparations for a Repast, 
 581. Peter's Denial of our Saviour. 
 5S'2. A Landscape. 
 583. The inside of an Ale-house, with Persons playing 
 
 at Cards. 
 iS-t. The Prodigal Son at Table, with his Mistresses.— 
 
 (In this picture Teniers is supposed to have drawn 
 
 himself and his Family.) 
 585. Hern shooting. 
 386\ The Alchymist in his Laboratory. 
 
 587. An old Man's Head in a Fur Dress and Bouhet. 
 
 588. The inside of an Ale-house. 
 
 TENIERS (the ELDER DAVID.) 
 
 No. 5S<). A Man playing on a Bagpipe. 
 
 ITALIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 CIO BENEDETTO CASTIGLIONE (CALLED AT GENOA, IL 
 GRECHETTO, AND IN FRANCE, THE BENDETTE.) 
 
 No. 689. The Nativity. 
 
 .690. The Money-sellers driven from the Temple. 
 
 6gi. ^lelchisedec, King of Salem, offering Bread and 
 
 Wine to Abraham. 
 692. A Woman carrying a Vase on her head, an old 
 Man, and an African with a Turban on his head 
 holding a topper plate.
 
 32 LETTER It. 
 
 No. 693. In the middle of a Court a Woman carrying a 
 
 Copper Vessel, and an Ass loaded with Kitchen 
 
 Furniture. 
 C^-i. Jacob leaves Mesopotamia, in order to see his 
 
 Father in Canaan. 
 695. Bacchanalians and Satyrs resting, and playing on 
 
 different Instruments. 
 
 ALBANI (FRANCESCO.) 
 
 No. 660. The Birth of tlie \'r.gin. 
 
 661. Mystic Vision of the Cross. 
 
 662. Diana and Acteon. 
 
 663. The Holy Family. 
 664!. The Rest in Egypt. 
 
 665. The Rest in Egypt. 
 
 666. St. Francis praying before a Crucifix* 
 
 667. God the Father in his Glory. 
 
 668. Adam and Eve. 
 
 669. The Annunciation of the Virgin. 
 
 670. The Annunciation of the Virgin. 
 
 671. Our Saviour appearing to Mary Magdalen. 
 
 672. The Baptism of Jesus in the Waters of Jordan, 
 
 673. The preachmg of St. John in the Desert. 
 
 67-i.: Apollo at the House of Admetus, King of 
 Thessaly. 
 
 675. The Triumph of Cybele. 
 
 676. Fire. 
 677- Air. 
 
 678. Water. 
 
 679. Earth. 
 
 680. "\ 
 
 681. f 
 
 ^ /The Loves and Graces at the Toilet of VcnusJ 
 
 683.)
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 3S 
 
 No. 684. Apollo and Daphne. 
 
 685. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. 
 
 THE CAURACCI. 
 
 The four Elements by the three Carracci, that is to say, 
 No. 703. Earth, by Lodovico Carracci. 
 
 704. Water, by Lodovico Carracci. 
 
 705. Fire, by Agostino Carracci, 
 706\ Air, by Annibale Carracci. 
 
 CARii.\cci (agostino.) 
 
 No. 707. The Assumption of the Virgin. 
 
 708. St. Cxcilia and St. Marguerite. 
 
 709. Tlie Communion of St. Jerom. 
 
 710. Hercules in hi= Cradle, strangling the Serpents. 
 
 CARRACCI (lodovico.) 
 
 No. 711. The Virgin, St. Francis, and St. Joseph. 
 
 712. St. Hyacinth, to whom the Virgin appears. 
 
 713. The occupation of St. Matthew. 
 714.. St. John baptizing Christ. 
 
 715. The Annunciation of tl>e Virgin. 
 716'. The Nativity of Jesus Christ. 
 717. The Virgin and the Infant Jesus. 
 
 CARRACCI (ANTONIO, NATURAL SON OF AGOSTINO 
 
 CARRACCI.) 
 
 No. 718. The Deluge. 
 
 CARRACCI (annibale.) 
 
 No. 719. The Mother of Pity. 
 
 720. St. Luke, St. Catherine, and the Virgin. 
 
 721. Christ lying dead on the Knees of the Virgin. 
 
 722. The Birth of the Virgin. 
 
 728. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ. 
 
 D
 
 34- LETTER II. 
 
 No. 724. The Resurrection of Jesus Clirist, 
 
 725. Jesus asleep. This picture is commonly called, the 
 
 Silence of Carracci. 
 725. Fishing. 
 
 727. Hunting. 
 
 728. The Nativity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 729. The Nativity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 730. Christ laid in his Tomb. 
 
 731. The Portrait of a learned Man. 
 
 732. The Annunciation of the Virgin. » 
 
 733. Diana and Calisto, 
 
 734. The Martyrdom of St. Stephen. 
 
 735. The Martyrdom of St. Stephen. 
 
 736. A Concert on the Water. 
 
 737. The Preaching of St. John in the Desert. 
 
 738. The Annunciation of the Virgin. 
 
 739. The Assumption of the Virgin. 
 
 740. A Hermit meditating. 
 
 741. The Sacrifice of Abraham. A Landscape. 
 
 742. The Death of Absalom. A Landscape. 
 
 CARAVAGGIO (MICHAEL ANGELO AMERIGI, CALLED THE 
 
 CAUAVAGGE.) 
 
 No. 743. The Death of the Virgin. 
 
 744. Christ carried to the Grave. 
 
 745. Adolphus and Vignacourt. 
 
 745. A young Gipsy telling a young Man's Fortune. 
 
 747. St. John the Baptist. 
 
 748. Wandering Musicians singing at the close of Evening, 
 
 and at the Corner of the Street, an Anthem to the 
 Virgin. 
 N.B. It is doubtful whether this was the work of Cara™ 
 vaggio, or of one of his pupils.
 
 LETTER II. 35 
 
 CAVEDONE (JAMES.) 
 
 No, 749. St. Eloi and St. Petronius. 
 
 750. St. Caecilia singing the praises of the Lord. 
 
 CORREGIO (ANTONY ALLEGRI, CALLED THE CORREGE.) 
 
 No. 753. The Virgin, the Infant Jesus, the Magdalen, and 
 St. Jerom. 
 
 754. The Rest in Egypt. 
 
 755. Antiope asleep. 
 
 756. 1 he Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 757. The taking down from the Cross, 
 
 758. The Martyrdom of St. Placidus and St. Flavia. 
 
 759. The Infant St. John. 
 
 760. A Head of Christ crowned with Thorns. 
 
 DOMENICHINO (DOMENICO ZAMPIEN, CALLED IN FRANCE 
 THE DOMENIQUEZ.) 
 
 No. 7^3. The Communion of St. Jerom. — (N.B. This admi- 
 mirable picture appears to me the best in the col- 
 lection.) 
 
 764. The Ptosary protected by the Virgin. 
 
 765. The Martyrdom of St, Agne^. 
 
 766. David playing on the Harp, 
 
 767. Rinaldo and Armida. 
 
 768. iEneas saving his Father Anchises from the Ruins 
 
 of Troy. 
 
 769. St, Csecilia. 
 
 770. The Concert, 
 
 77 i. The Virgin and St. Antony of Padua. 
 
 772. The Virgin taking Water from a River with a Shell, 
 
 773- Tinioclea before Alexander. 
 
 774. A Landscape. 
 
 775, A Landscape. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 LETTER ir. 
 
 No. 77^' A Landscape. 
 
 777. God cursing Adam and Eve. 
 
 778. The Ecstacy of St. Paul. 
 779» The Triumph of Love. 
 
 FERRARI (GANDERTIO.) 
 
 No. 784. St. Paul the Apostle. 
 
 785. The Nativity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 CUIDO (RENI, called in FRANCE THE GUIDE.) 
 
 No. 797. The Crucifij^ion of St. Peter. 
 
 798. Christ giving the Keys to St. Peter. 
 799* St. Jerom, St. Thoma.s, and the Virgin. 
 
 800. Fortune. 
 
 801. David holding the Head of the Giant Goliah. 
 
 802. The Virgin, the Infant Jesus, and St. John kissing 
 
 his Feet. 
 
 803. The Virgin holding the Infant Jesus asleep on her 
 
 Knees. 
 
 804. The Union of Design and Colouring. 
 
 805. St. John the Baptist in the Desert. 
 806'. The Magdalen. 
 
 807. The Magdalen. 
 
 808. St. Sebastian. 
 
 809. The Samaritan Woman, 
 
 810. Christ in the Garden of Olives. 
 
 811. Christ on the Cross, and the Magdalen. 
 
 812. A Head of Christ crowned with Thorns. 
 
 813. Hercules killing the Hydra. 
 
 814. The Battle of Hercules and Achelous. 
 
 815. The taking away of Dejanira by Nessus. 
 81(5. Hercules on the Funeral Pile. 
 
 8 17. The Mother of Pity, with the Saints who protected 
 
 the City of Bologna. 
 
 818. St. Roch in hi'; Prison.
 
 LETTEE II. S7 
 
 No. 8 19. The Massacre of the Innocents. 
 
 820. The Angelic Salutation. 
 
 821. The Purification of the Virgin. 
 82'2. The Sleep of the Infant Jesus. 
 
 823. The eternal Father. 
 
 824. St. John in the Wilderness. 
 
 825. The Rest in Egypt. 
 S26\ St. John. 
 
 827. The carrying away of Helen. 
 
 CUERCINO (GIO FRANCESCO BARBIERI, CALLED tlit 
 
 CUERCHIN.) 
 
 829. The Picture of Guerchini, painted by himself. 
 
 830. The Magician Circe. 
 
 831. Jesus Christ giving the Keys to St. Peter. 
 
 832. The Martyrdom of St. Peter the Apostle. 
 
 833. The Resurrection of Lazarus. 
 
 834. The Infant Jesusj holding the Hand of his Mother, 
 
 gives his benediction. 
 
 835. The Incredulity of St. Thomas. 
 836\ The Vision of St. Jerom* 
 
 837. Amnon and Thamar. 
 
 838. St. Theresa and Jesus Christ. 
 
 839. The Circumcision of Christ. 
 
 840. Tlie beheading of St. John and St. Paul, under 
 
 the Reign of the Emperor Julian, called the 
 Apostate. 
 
 841. The Vision of St. Bruno. 
 
 842. The Saints Protectors of the Town of Modena, 
 
 843. The Virgin appearing to St. Jerom. 
 
 844. St. Peter at his Prayers. 
 
 845. St. Paul holding the Sword with which he is about 
 
 to be put to Death. 
 
 846. St. Francis and St. Benoit. 
 
 847. St. William and St. Felix. 
 
 848. The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 D J
 
 38 LETTER II. 
 
 No. 849. Herod's Daughter receiving the Head of St. Jphn 
 the Baptist. 
 
 850. Christ appearing to the Virgin. 
 
 851. Conclusion of the Battle between the Romans and 
 
 Sabines. 
 
 LANFRANCO (GIOVANNI LANFRANCO, CALL2D THE LAN- 
 FRANC.) 
 
 No. 854. Agar in the Desert. 
 
 855. The parting of St. Peter and St. Paul. 
 
 S56. St. Bartholomew the Apostle. 
 
 857. Sti Peter imploring the Pardon of his Master. 
 
 857' B. St. Peter deploring his Faults. 
 
 S58. The crowning of the Virgin. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING ARE FROM THE ROMAN, FLO- 
 RENTINE, AND VENETIAN SCHOOLS. 
 
 ALEXANDER VERONESE. 
 
 No. 910. The Adultress. 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 921. The holy family accompanied by St. Michael, St. 
 
 Elizabeth, and St- John holding a Sheep. 
 
 922. The Virgin holding the Infant Jesus. 
 
 923. The Picture of Madame Lise. 
 
 924. The Picture of a Woman in black. 
 
 PAUL VERONESE. 
 
 No. 927. The Marriage of St. Catherine. 
 
 RAPHAEL. 
 
 No. 931. The Infant Jesus caressing St. John* 
 932. St. Michael subduing the Devil.
 
 LETTER II. 39 
 
 No. 933. St. JNIichael combating Monsters. An allegorical 
 painting. 
 
 934. St. George. 
 
 935. The Virgin, St. John, and the Infant Jesus asleep. 
 
 (Commonly called the Silence of the Virgin.) 
 
 936. The Vision of Ezekiel. 
 Q37. A young Man reflecting. 
 
 938. A young Man about fifteen or sixteen Years old. 
 To which pictures of Raphael has lately been 
 added his celebrated one of the Holy 
 Family. 
 
 TITIAN (TIZIANO VECELLI.) 
 
 No^ 9-iO. The crowning with Thorns. 
 
 941. Christ carried to the Tomb- 
 
 942. Portrait of a Man in black. 
 
 943. Portrait of a Man in black. 
 
 D4
 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Tiie fke of the 18th of brumaire in honour of the prelimi- 
 naries, and of the anniversary of the consular govern- 
 ment.— Apathy of the people. — Fireworks. — Accident which 
 happened to an english gentleman. — Postscript. The death 
 of the gentleman last named. 
 
 Paris, novcmber the lOth, 1801 (19 brumaire.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 tlAVING ill my last letter attempted to de- 
 scribe the objects which particularly attracted my 
 notice on my first arrival, I shall in this endea- 
 vour to satisfy the curiosity which you will natu- 
 rally feel, relative to the splendid Jite celebrated 
 yesterday in honour of the peace with England, 
 and of the anniversary of the consular govern- 
 ment. 
 
 The rejoicings may be said to have begun on 
 the preceding evening ; as the cannon were fired, 
 and the theatres thrown open to the public, with 
 the single exception of the Italian opera, where 
 was also represented a musical piece, the words 
 of which were in honour of the occasion. I 
 wished very much to have been present at one of 
 the performances given gratis to the people ; but 
 I was dissuaded from going there, by the advice 
 of some french friends, who assured me, that 
 the attempt would be attended with considerable
 
 LETTER III. 41 
 
 danger. I therefore contented mvself with visit- 
 ing the only spectacle * \vhere money was re- 
 ceived. 
 
 * Spectacle. — This is so important a word, and of such ge- 
 neral use in french conversation, that I cannot too soon intro- 
 duce it to the notice of my english reader. It means, first, all 
 the theatres, puppet-shows, pantomimes, horse exercise£> and 
 other motley amusements of this gay capital. 
 
 It is also perpetually in the mouths both of gentlemen and 
 ladies. If you ask one of the former, whether he were pleased 
 with the opera, he replies, " Qui, enchante ; le spectacle etoit 
 magnifique." (Yes, delighted ; the spectacle was magnificent.) 
 And if you put a similar question about a I all to one of the 
 latter, you receive a similar answer. 
 
 If you speak with enthusiasm of the picture gallery, a parisian 
 coldly observes, " C'est bien vrai, c'est un tres beau specta- 
 cle." (Yes, it is a very fine spectacle, or sight.) 
 
 If a stranger inquire, whether the monthly parade of Bona- 
 parte's troops deserve its celebrity, he is told, " Oui, c'est uu 
 tres beau spectacle." (Yes, it is a fine spectacle.) 
 
 It is also the favourite theme of conversation ; and a 
 parisian compelled to talk with a foreigner, is sure to begin 
 with the following words : " Allez vous souvent, monsieur, 
 au spectacle ? Ne sont ils pas bien beaux nos spectacles ?" 
 (Do you often go to the spectacles ? Are not our spectacles 
 very fine ?) 
 
 A similar observation forms likewise the hospitable kind 
 of consolation which an englishman sometimes receives, 
 if he complain, that he has not seen much of french society. 
 " Mais cependant, vous ne pouvez pas manquer d'amuse- 
 ment ; a Paris les spectacles sont si beau.x." (You cannot 
 want amusement, however ; the spectacles at Paris are so 
 line.)
 
 42 LETTER III. 
 
 The company of Italian actors usually oc- 
 cupies the Thmtre Taxart, but at present 
 performs in a very beautiful little play-house 
 belonging to "la Societe olympique," situ- 
 ate in the street which was formerly known 
 as " la rue de Chante Reine;" but which, in 
 honour of Bonaparte, (who resided there while 
 a private man) is now called " la rue de la 
 Victoire." 
 
 The entrance to this theatre is strikingly ele- 
 gant and novel, consisting of a circular piazza, 
 in the middle of which is a grass plot. The 
 building is well proportioned ; and the chande- 
 
 In consequence of the general application qf this word in 
 France to every thing relating to the stage, a parisian, on his 
 arrival in London, wishing to go to the play, supposed that he 
 had only to look for the word spectacle in a french and english 
 dictionary ; and, having found that the literal translation gave 
 him the same word, with perfect confidence directed his 
 hackney coacliman to drive to the spectacle. The fellow, sup- 
 posing that he wanted to purchase a pair of spectacles, con- 
 ducted him to the celebrated shop at Charing-cross. The 
 frenchman flew into a passion, and by his gestures conveyed, 
 that this was not the place where he desired to go. The coach- 
 man, imagining that this was not the optician's, to which 
 lie wished to be taken, carried him to several others in dif- 
 ferent parts of the town. After a long round, during which 
 the favourite oaths of the two countries were mutually ex- 
 changed between monsieur and his charioteer, the former was 
 compelled to pass his evening in the hackney coach instead 
 of the play-house, and thus learnt the difference between 
 french spectacles and english spectacles.
 
 LETTER III. 43 
 
 lier, by which it is brilliantly lighted, extremely 
 beautiful. The music seemed good ; but the female 
 performers relied entirely on the charms of their 
 voice ; for I never remember to have seen, on 
 any other stage, such an assemblage of ugly 
 women as this presented. The audience con- 
 sisted of the best company at Paris ; and I had 
 the pleasure of seeing there madame Bonaparte, 
 who sat in the stage box, accompanied by 
 mademoiselle Beauharnois, her daughter, and by 
 madame le Clerc, the consul's sister. Bonaparte 
 was also said to be present, but being in a loge 
 grille, could not be perceived. 
 
 Aladame, as far as I can judge from the dis- 
 tance at which I saw lier, has a mild, amiable 
 countenance, which is universall}' allowed to be 
 the just picture of her disposition. Her person 
 is elegant, and her appearance altogether much 
 like that of an english woman of fashion. 
 
 IMademoiselle Beauharnois* is a fair girl of 
 sixteen or seventeen, and, without being remark- 
 ably beautiful, is extremely intcrestino-. Her 
 manners are modest ; and her dress simple, and 
 in good taste. Madame le Clerc t is a very 
 
 * Mademoiselle Beauharnois is since married to Louis Bona- 
 parte, one of the brothers of the first consul ; to whom she 
 lias become, therefore, both daughter and sister. 
 
 t Married to General le Clerc, who commanded the expe- 
 dition to St. Domingo. She accompanied him to that island.
 
 44 LETTER III. 
 
 pretty little woman, and much admired at 
 Paris. 
 
 Excuse this digression, into which I was led 
 by naming the preparatory rejoicings of the pre- 
 ceding evening. I proceed to the jita itself. 
 The 1 8th of brumaire, that long expected day, 
 began in clouds of rain. The Parisians were 
 au desespoir. Every body predicted, that the 
 vast preparations, which had been made for this 
 jubilee, would be thrown away ; that the illumi- 
 nation would fail ; in short, that the whole would 
 be an " affaire vianqiiee *. " 
 
 Those who ventured into the streets, notwith- 
 standing the torrents of rain, heard, on every 
 
 and incurred all the dangers of climate and of war. She did 
 so in obedience to Bonaparte's particular orders ; with whom it 
 is an undeviating principle, that a wife should always follow 
 the steps and fortunes of her husband. 
 
 * As we should say in english, " a lost thing." The french 
 expression is more commonly used, and is infinitely stronger 
 in its meaning. It is adopted on all occasions of misfortune ; 
 such as to deplore the death of a friend, or the loss of a " spec- 
 tacle." A general was lately killed in a duel. A fair parisian 
 of high fashion, to whom he was much attached, on hearing of 
 the accident, exclaimed, with an accent of deep despair, " Que 
 je suis a plaindre ! il devoit m'avoir amenee au bal de I'opera 
 demain. Voila une affaire bien manquee." (IIow am I to be 
 pitied 1 he was to have taken me to the ball at the opera 
 to morrow. Here is a lost thing, or a party completely de- 
 ranged.)
 
 LETTER III. 45 
 
 gide, ^'- quel mauiais temps/ quel malheur ! vrai- 
 mtnt c'est terrible — cest affreu.v. Lafite auroit 
 ith si belle, si ce diable de pluie navoit pas 
 tombe*r 
 
 The mornino; passed away without the faintest 
 hopes of better weather, and in mutual con- 
 dolences ou the loss of the beau spectacle, 
 which had been {promised for this day. The re- 
 joicings were to begin at four o'clock. About 
 three the weather suddenly changed, tlie clouds 
 dispersed, the sky became serene. It happened 
 that this took place precisely at the moment, 
 when the first consul appeared at the window of 
 the palace, and every body agreed, that the fa- 
 vourable change was solely produced par la bonna 
 fortune de Bonaparte t. 
 
 Indeed, it is not without some reason that this 
 prejudice is entertained by the public, and that 
 Bonaparte has, on more occasions than one, ap- 
 pealed to his good fortune. Great and tran- 
 scendant as are the merits of that extraordinary 
 man, they are not more remarkable than the sin- 
 gular concatenation of fortunate circamstances, 
 which have uniformly attenued his progress 
 through life. Possessed of the former, unac- 
 companied by the latter, he would have pro- 
 
 * "What bad weather ! what a misfortune ! really it is ter- 
 rible ! it is shocking ! 'Yhcft'te would have been so fine, il" ihis 
 do^'ilisli ruin liad nut fallen ! 
 
 t V>y the good fortune of Bonaparte.
 
 46 LETTER III. 
 
 bably become a distinguished character, but he 
 never could have reached that summit of gran- 
 deur, where he is at present so securely seated. 
 
 I return to my subject. The signal for the 
 commencement of the fhe was the departure of 
 a balloon, in which monsieur and madame Gar- 
 nerin ascended, at half past four o'clock, through 
 a clear sky, which no longer bore any marks of 
 the tempestuous weather of the morning. After 
 the balloon had attained a certain height, a para- 
 chute \ras sent down, and the live animal which 
 it contained reached the ground in safety. I was 
 fortunate enough to dine this day with a 
 family* who reiide in what M'as first called 
 "la Garde-meuble," then "la place de Louis 
 XV," for some time the seat of fo many legal 
 murders, under the appellation of " de la Re- 
 
 * At the house of the respectable M. de la T , whose 
 
 niece is the lady of the celebrated P— — t, some time pre- 
 sident of the convention, and afterwards banished, with 
 many other worthy men, at the revolution of the 18th of 
 
 Fructidor, M. P 1 is a distinguished writer; and, as a 
 
 politician, was much esteem.ed for the moderation of his 
 principles, and the integrity of his conduct. Madame P t 
 is a woman of very superiour talents and great acquirements. 
 She is likewise justly admired for the humanity which has 
 induced her to devote her hours to that excellent institution, 
 ia Societi Materndk, of which she is the president. The 
 object of this society is, to a.fford deserted orphans that com- 
 fort, of which they have been deprived by the death or the 
 fault of their parents. 
 
 5
 
 LETTER III. 47 
 
 volution," and now styled, in honour of the pre- 
 sent government, " ^/f la Concorde." As the 
 j)rincipal rejoicings were to take place in this 
 spot, I could not have been better situate. AVe 
 dined in a back room ; and during the short time 
 vviiich we passed at table (for a french dinner sel- 
 dom exceeds an hour), the lamps had been 
 lighted. Never shall I forget the splendid sight, 
 which appeared to have been almost produced by 
 magic, and which burst on us in returning to 
 the salon (or drazving roo7?i), the window i of 
 which command an extensive view of the place 
 dc la Co7ico}'de, of the bridge of Louis XVI, 
 of the palace or hospital of les Iiwalides, of the 
 Thuilleries, of the palace of the Corps Lcgislat'tf, 
 formerly called "■ de Bourbon,''' of the river, and 
 of several buildings in the FaiLvbourg St. Gcr- 
 ma'm. All these striking objecls were now one 
 blaze of light. My eyes were so dazzled with 
 the scene which presented itself, that it was some 
 time before 1 could take a distinct view of each 
 particular beauty. The public edifices I have 
 named, all of which are of the fuiest architecture, 
 covered with innumerable lamps, arranged with 
 the greatest taste, and Mhich being of different 
 heights, seemed to rise the one above the other ; 
 and the majeftic domes splendidly illuminated, 
 and extending the blaze of light as far as the eye 
 could reach, formed altogether a coup d^aul, 
 which may be conceived, but which cannot be
 
 4S LETTER III. 
 
 described. I had scarcely recovered from the 
 surprise and admiration, which this sight pro- 
 duced, when the pantomime, intended to repre- 
 sent the horrors of war, and the happiness of 
 peace, began under the colonnade where it was 
 my good fortune to be seated. 
 
 I must confess, that this farce appeared to me 
 ridiculous, and equally unworthy the great nation 
 which gave the/^/e, and the important event which 
 it was intended to celebrate. Sham combats, fall- 
 ing towers, v/ounded heroes, devils with torches, 
 allegorical emblems of Discord, &c., follow- 
 ed by cornucopias, dancing peasants, cars of 
 triumph, and lastly, by an illuminated temple of 
 peace, which rose on the ruins of that of war, 
 formed the principal entertainment. 1 think you 
 will agree with me, that such a spectacle was 
 better calcidated for the staa:e of Sadler's Wells in 
 London, or the Ambigu-com'ique at Paris, than 
 for the principal objet:!; of a great and national 
 festival. Simple and plain as is this reflection, 
 it did not seem to strike any of the french spec- 
 tators, and the wised of them looked on without 
 disgust, and almost with admiration, on that 
 which, instead of commemorating the most im- 
 portant event which Europe has seen for many 
 years, appeared to the eye of reason only suited 
 to entertain the dotage of age, or the simplicity 
 of infancy.
 
 LETTER ili" 49 
 
 If the pantomime were not veiy deserving of 
 praise, it forms a single exception; and I can 
 assure you, with great truth, that every other 
 part of the ftte was truly magnificent. As no 
 carriage was allowed to roll that evening (a 
 laudable precaution, taken on all such occasions 
 at Paris), and as the fireworks were to take place 
 on the river, at some distance from the house 
 where I dined, it was necessary to pass on foot, 
 through the vast crowd which filled la place de la 
 Concorde, the walks of the Thuilleries, the bridges, 
 the streets, &c. Yet such was the order that was 
 preserved, and such the tranquillity of the people, 
 that, accompanied by my wife and one gentleman, 
 I made my way, I suppose, through nearly a 
 million of people, without the least accident, and 
 with certainly not more crowding than is daily 
 experienced at a private fashionable ball in Lon- 
 don. What astonished me most, indeed, the 
 whole day, was the dead calm which prevailed 
 among the spectators. They looked on, walked 
 about, and seemed entertained with the shows 
 which were exhibited; yet no cries of triumph, 
 no shouts of joy, expressed the public satisfac- 
 tion. The apathy which prevails in this country 
 on all public events, and which has succeeded to 
 the fever of popular violence, is strikingly ap- 
 parent on all occasions, but on none more than 
 this.
 
 50 LETTER 111. 
 
 During my walk, I passed through the garrlen 
 of the Thuilleries. The alleys \vere brilliantly 
 tlecorated with rows of lamps, suspended on 
 frames constructed for the purpose ; and the pa- 
 lace was itself, if possible, still more resplendent. 
 The whole had the appearance of an enchanted 
 castle. From a house on the quai Voltaire, I 
 saw the fireworks to great advantage; and they 
 appeared to me, accustomed only to such as are 
 exhibited in England, extremely beautiful. What 
 pleased me most in the display, was a contrivance, 
 by which the fire seemed to rise from the water ; 
 an ingenious and elegant idea, by which the in- 
 ventor probably meant to represent allegorically, 
 by the union of opposing elements, the recon- 
 ciliation of two nations, always the rivals, and so 
 long the enemies, of each other. There was a 
 temple of commerce on the river, and little 
 boats, with pendants of different nations. All 
 this I consider as forming a second act to the 
 pantomime exhibited on the place de la Coii- 
 cordCf and which I have already ventured to 
 condemn. Both appeared, to an english eye, in- 
 significant, if not ridiculous. 
 
 The fireworks appeared to me as perfect as 
 possible; but there was some discontent ex- 
 pressed by the persons near me, that what i* 
 called a bouquet, with which they were to have 
 conclnded, was not displayed. This disappoint- 
 iueut was attributed by some to a want of skill in
 
 LETTER Til. 51 
 
 the manager, and by others to an order of go- 
 vernment, arising from a fear of danger to the 
 adjoining buildings. 
 
 I cannot pretend to determine this important 
 question; but I must be permitted to say, that if 
 the Parisians were not satisfied with this day's 
 amusement, they must be very unreasonable in- 
 deed in their pursuit of spectacles. 
 
 I returned home about eleven at night, much 
 dcliglUed with what I had seen ; and though ]\Irs. 
 
 and myself were again obliged to pass 
 
 tlirough this mighty crowd, \vt neither of us ex- 
 perienced the slightest hurt, or the least in- 
 civilitv. 
 
 I was in hopes to have been able to add, that 
 the day passed over without the most trifling ac- 
 cident; but I have, unfortunately, just received 
 
 the melancholy news, that Mr. , an english 
 
 gentleman, fell from a scaffolding, where he had 
 placed himself to see the fireworks, and is so 
 dreadfully M'ounded, as to render the hopes of 
 his recovery highly improbable. 
 
 I understand, that the accident took place very 
 near the Thuilleries, and that the first consul, 
 with laudable humanity, sent every proper assist- 
 ance to our unfortunate countryman, who is now 
 attended by the physician and surgeon particu- 
 larly attached to the family of Bonaparte. Most 
 ardently do I hope, that their skill and care may 
 
 E 2
 
 53 tKTTER III. 
 
 be attended with success; but I am told, this i3 
 more than they expect themselves. 
 . Adieu, my dear friend. I am sorry to send 
 you so imperfect an account of one of the finest 
 sights, perhaps, ever exhibited in Europe; but I 
 do not excel in description at any time, and what 
 I have attempted on this occasion, would baffle 
 the ablest pen. 
 
 I am; &c. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT, 
 
 The unfortunate Mr. , mentioned m this letter, languish- 
 
 ed three weeks in agony, and at last expired, in the arms of 
 a young and beautiful wife, who liad accompanied him in 
 this ill fated journey, (the sole object of which was the 
 sight of a festival, which had to him so tragical a conclu- 
 sion), who attended him, with exemplary patience and un- 
 ceasing care, during his illness, and who, after receiving his 
 last breath, herself conveyed his remains to his native coun- 
 try. To add to the calamity of this unfortunate and amiabre 
 woman, she had not a friend, or even an acquaintance, of 
 either sex, at Paris; and in the discharge of the painful 
 and pious offices I liave mentioned, her only assistant was 
 Mr. Peregaux, her banker, wlio, 1 am told, afforded her 
 every consolation in his power.— Though I did not know this 
 lady, her story made a deep impression on my mind, and for 
 some days I could not divest myself of the melancholy it 
 created.
 
 ( ^3 ) 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 State of society at Paris. — The three sets, Vancienne nohlessfi^ 
 the governmental class, and les parvenus uu nouveaux riches. 
 —Description of a house belonging to one of the latter. 
 
 Paris, november the 19th, i8oi (38th brumalre.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 JVlY two last letters were filled with details of 
 pictures, statues, pantomimes, and fetes. In 
 this, I shall only speak to you of men and 
 manners. 
 
 Visiting Paris after a revolution which has 
 produced such extraordinary alterations in the 
 laws, customs, and opinions of the people, I ex- 
 pected to find an equal change in the state of 
 society. A great change has certainly taken 
 place, but the change is of a difierent nature 
 from what I foresaw. An english lady, of much 
 wit, said to me the other day, " When I arrived 
 Jlt Paris, I expected to meet with philosophers 
 in every society, and to hear nothing discussed 
 but subjects of the highest import. Alas! how 
 have I been disappointed!" As to me, I enter- 
 tained no such idea ; but I certainly supposed 
 that the political events in which every person 
 had been forced, in one way or other, to act a 
 part, would have accustomed the minds of men 
 to such a variance of opinion, that all subjects 
 
 JC 3
 
 54 LETTER IV. 
 
 would be canvassed with liberality, and that, 
 whatever might be the sentiments of an indivi- 
 dual, he would be heard with tolerance. 
 
 The lady I have mentioned was not more mis- 
 taken than I have been. There is no country 
 under the sun, where less freedom is allowed in 
 conversation. I do not mean to say, that the 
 government checks or interferes with what passes 
 in private society; on the contrary, I have more 
 than once heard in company remarks made at 
 the expense of persons in power, which even in 
 England would be thought inflammatory: but 
 what I complain of is, that in every circle there 
 is a certain creed, or string of opinions, from 
 which, if one of the company were to venture to 
 dissent, he would be considered as ^^ de mawvaise 
 compag7iic*.'' These- opinions are not confined 
 to the afrairs of France, but extend themselves 
 to those of England; and in the societies where 
 I have been thrown, I have been more than once 
 suspected of jacobinism, for not joining in a 
 philippic against Mr. Fox, or in an eulogy on 
 lord Grenville. 
 
 As to society, it appears to me, that there are 
 three great divisions, or principal classes, at 
 
 * " De mauvaiEe compagnie" — " of bad company, unfit 
 for good company." The terms, " bonne compagnie," and 
 " mauralse compagnie," are for ever in the mouths oi coquettes 
 arid petits-maitres. It is difficult to defme what, I believe, is 
 meant to b^indcftnable.
 
 LETTER IV. 65 
 
 Paris. The first, in point of antiquity, and per^ 
 haps still of public opinion (for, notwithstanding 
 all the laws to the contrary, family prejudices are 
 as strong as ever in France), is that of rancienne 
 noblesse*y who separate themselves almost en- 
 tirely from the other classes, and live together at 
 the houses of such of their body, as are still rich 
 enough to give assemblies. The second, which 
 I shall call the governmental set, consists of the 
 ministers, of the counsellors of state, of the am- 
 bassadors, of the senators, legislators, tribunes, &c. 
 in short, of all the constituted authorities. The 
 third class is what the pride of the first deno- 
 minates 'Mes parvenus ou nouveaux riches;" 
 consisting: of the wealthiest individuals now in 
 France ; of persons, who, taking advantage of 
 the circumstances which have occurred, have en- 
 riched themselves during the general wreck of 
 
 * L'unciciine iwhlesse, litdl-ully translated, " the ancient 
 nobility." I use the expression in french, because the word 
 " nobility," in our language, expresses a very different 
 tiling.-— The nobility ol Ku<iland are a small, respectable, 
 and wealthy body, exercising a great and important part 
 of the constitution, and possessed ol' ])owers highly ini- 
 portant to the state, 'i'he french " noblesse" consisted of 
 sixty or seventy thousand families, every individual of 
 which would have thought himself disgraced by engaging in 
 any branch of trade, or useful industry ; enjoying many 
 privileges personally advantageous, but discharging no pub> 
 lie functions, a.s nobles, at all connected with the govern- 
 meut, 
 
 e4.
 
 56 LETTER IV. 
 
 private fortunes and public credit. Army con"? 
 tiacts, national estates, and speculations in the 
 funds, have afforded the means, by which jpany 
 of these individuals have accumulated overgrown 
 fortunes 5 but several respectable merchants, 
 bankers, and other commercial men, are unjustly 
 confounded with these, and, under the general 
 name of " fournisseurs *, " held up to public 
 contempt. 
 
 The first class are still affluent, when spoken 
 of as a body, though few of them have indivi- 
 dually large incomes. A distinguished person, 
 connected with the government, and to whom 
 the most important acts of state have been spe- 
 cially entrusted, assures me, that the old pror 
 prietors still hold two thirds of the landed estates 
 of France ; though, in consequence of the heavy 
 taxes t laid on them during the Revolution, by 
 the loss of their woods, of their feudal rights, 
 and of public offices hereditary in their families, 
 (not to mention the present law of descent, by 
 which all children inherit equally), their incomes, 
 
 * " Contractors." 
 
 f Every landholder in Francp, in consequence of a law 
 passed in one of the most viulent moments of the revolution, 
 and which is still continued, pays one fourth of his real re^ 
 yenue to the state; and as, in particular parts of the country, 
 the rate has been unfairly made, it happens, in some cases, 
 that even a half is paid, instead of a fourth. The latter \^ 
 |;bc 7ninimum of the present taxation.
 
 LETTER TV, 57 
 
 tliougli in different degrees, are, in every case, 
 greatly diminished. 
 
 Some of the old noblesse, notwithstanding their 
 misfortunes, still live M'ith considerable splen- 
 dour, and have houses " bien montees" in which 
 they give balls and parties. The most distin- 
 guished of these are madame la de ., 
 
 and madame , who have each an assembly 
 
 once in everv week. A ci-devant cojntesse, be- 
 longing to the society, requested the permission 
 of introducing to these houses an english lad}', 
 of whom it will be sufficient to say, that though 
 not of exalted rank, she was unexceptionable in 
 every respect, in birth, in character, in fortune, 
 in person, and in situation of life. I think you 
 will be as much surprised, and as much irritated, 
 as 1 was, when I add, that this mighty favour 
 was, in both instances, refused. The reason 
 assigned for this strange want of hospitality, has 
 induced me to mention the fat-l. The lady in 
 question, having been accustomed to the highest 
 circles in her own country, and discovering, for 
 the first time, in this land of '' liberty and 
 equality," the humble distance at which the wife 
 of a commoner ought to regard the chaste and 
 learned festivals of aristocracy, could not help 
 expressing her surprise, if not her anger, to the 
 french friend, who had made the application. 
 /' Je .suis bien facli(:^'e *, " replied madame la 
 
 * I am very sorry, but to tell you the truth.
 
 58 LETTER IV. 
 
 comtesse I ** rnais pour vous dire la feritS, the 
 emigres were treated with so httle kindness in, 
 London, I mean, by the gentlemen and ladies 
 there (for there is no complaint against your 
 government), that it is impossible to persuade 
 their relations to receive the enahsh chez eu.v* — ► 
 vraiment je suis cm dhespoir.'" 
 
 I am unwilling to think, that such is the ge- 
 neral language of the body of emigrants. I 
 know, that there are amongst them men of nice 
 honour, of noble sentiments, and of dignified 
 demeanour; and I have heard some speak, as 
 they ought, of the hospitality they experienced 
 in England : but if there be any M'ho attempt to 
 separate the british government from the inha- 
 bitants of the country, I must beg leave to re- 
 mind them, that it was the english people, from 
 whose pockets that money was drawn, by Avhich 
 in their misfortunes, they were supported ; and 
 that, happily for us, our government is so con- 
 structed, that unless the popular voice had sanc- 
 tioned the laudable humanitv of c:overnment, 
 not even IMr. Pitt could have afforded them that 
 assistance, which, in every instance, the}' received 
 from England. As to their reception by indi- 
 viduals in Great Britain, I must be permitted to 
 observe, that such of the emigrants as dignified 
 the poverty (into which they were cruelly thrown) 
 
 * At their house — I ;uu really quite distressed. 
 3
 
 LETTER IV. 59 
 
 by the propriety of their conduct, found gene- 
 rally, if not universally, that respect, to which 
 their dreadful reverse of fortune, and their ho- 
 nourable industry, equally entitled them. Those 
 who sought in beggary, in gambling, or in im- 
 portunate solicitation, a dishonest and preca- 
 rious existence, ought not to complain of an 
 exclusion from society, which was alone pro- 
 duced by the impropriety of their own conduct. 
 I hope the complaints against english hos- 
 pitality come from the latter class ; if so, the 
 sensible and liberal french will know how to ap- 
 
 ])reciate their evidence. If from the former 
 
 but I will not put an hypothesis, which would 
 appear to doubt the gratitude of men, whose for- 
 mer lives entitle them to esteem. 
 
 Begging your pardon for this digression, into 
 which I was involuntarily led, I return to the 
 societies of Paris. 
 
 The second class, which I call the govern- 
 mental, is the most polite to strangers. The 
 second consul has a splendid party every week ; 
 and each of the ministers has a day, to which 
 all foreigners may be taken by their respective 
 ministers, after they have been presented at the 
 Tluiilleries. 
 
 Lt Bruu, the third consul, frequently gives 
 dinners; and english parties, who have been in- 
 vited, assure me, that they are particularly plea- 
 &ant. He is a man of great literary acquire-
 
 60 LETTER IV. 
 
 ments, and the conversation at his table gene- 
 rally takes a superiour turn. 
 
 The ministerial assemblies are crowded ; but 
 the houses are large, the attendance good, and 
 the uniforms of the constituted authorities, and 
 tlie full dress of the ambassadors, give, altogether, 
 a splendour to these meetings^ which no others at 
 Paris possess. 
 
 The third class— I mean, that of '' the par- 
 venus'*'' — if not the most elegant, or the most 
 esteemed, is, at least, the most luxurious. No- 
 thing can exceed the splendour of the persons of 
 this description. The furniture of their houses, 
 the dress of their wives, their table, their plate, 
 tlieir villas, in short, all the " agremens''' of 
 life, are in the highest style of oriental magni- 
 ficence. 
 
 To give you some idea of their manner of 
 living, I will describe to you the house of ma- 
 dame , which I yesterday obtained the per- 
 mission of seeing, in her absence. 
 
 The house is situate in a street leading from 
 the Boulevard, and is approached by a fine 
 court, of considerable length. The back of the 
 house looks on a very pretty garden, arranged 
 ^ Vaugloise. It was formerly the residence of a 
 minister of state. 
 
 The drawing room, and salle ^ mangerif, were 
 not yet finished. The furniture prepared for 
 
 * " New Comers," upstarts. t Eating roonv
 
 LETTER it, 6l 
 
 them was rich. I did not think it particularly 
 beautiful ; but the bed room, and bathing ca- 
 binet, exceeded in luxury every thing which I 
 ever beheld, or even ventured to imagine. The 
 canopy of the bed was of the finest muslin, the 
 covering of pink satin, the frame of beautiful 
 mahogany, supported by figures in gold of an- 
 tique shapes. The steps, which led to this de- 
 licious couch, were covered with red velvet, 
 ornamented on each side with artificial flowers, 
 highly scented. On one side stood, on a pede- 
 stal, a marble statue of Silence, with this in- 
 scription : 
 
 " TUTATUR SOMNOS ET AMORES CONSCIA LECTlV 
 
 On the other, a very lofty gold stand, for a taper 
 or lamp. A fine mirror filled up one side of 
 the bed, and was reflected by one at the top, 
 and another at the opposite side of the room. 
 The walls were covered with mahogany, relieved 
 with gold borders, and now and then with glass. 
 The whole in excellent taste. The bathing cabinet, 
 which adjoined, Mas equally luxurious. The 
 bath, when not in use, forms a sofa, covered 
 with kerseymere edged with gold; and the whole 
 of this cabinet is as pretty as the bed room. Be- 
 yond this room is the bed chamber of monsieur, 
 plain, neat, and unaffected ; and on the other 
 
 * Silenco guards the slumbers and tire loves of this bedr
 
 6^ lETTER IV. 
 
 side a little closet, covered with green silk, and 
 opening on the garden, in which madame sits, 
 when she amuses herself with drawino-. To 
 conclude, I find the "loves," which "Silence 
 guards," and of which this paphian seat is the 
 witness, are those of January and May; for the 
 wife is twenty (the greatest beauty of Paris), 
 and the husband something less than sixty. 
 
 I have made my letter of a most unpardonable 
 length, and yet my subject is not complete. I 
 will, however, stop for the present, only request- 
 ing your permission, when I have the oppor- 
 tunity, of adding such details, as I may be able 
 to collect, relative to the diifcrcnt societies I 
 have mentioned. Before I conclude, I ouc-ht, 
 perhaps, to mention, that the generals are seen 
 both in the second and third classes, but rarelv in 
 the first. Subalterns do not mix in socictv, at 
 least, I have not yet met one in company. 
 
 Adieu.
 
 ( G3 ) 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Opening of the legislative body. — Election of the president. 
 •i-Lord Cornwallis. — Reflections of the people in the 
 gallery. 
 
 Paris, novcmber the 2^d, l8oi (a frimair*), ] 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 Yesterday being the first of ^'fiimaire/'tbe 
 (lay on which, by the present constitution, the 
 legislature and tribunate begin their session, I de- 
 termined to attend the opening of the former. 
 
 As I was not acquainted with any of the mem- 
 bers, I was obli2:ed bv means of a silver tickcL 
 to seek admittance in one of tlie galleries devoted 
 to the public. The legislative body holds it<s 
 sittings in the beautiful palace, now called by its 
 name, but better known by its former one, of 
 Palais Bourbon. It is situate in the Faiix- 
 bourg St. Germain, immediately fronting Ic 
 pont Louis XVI, and opposite the Champs Eli- 
 sets. The hall, in which the members assem- 
 ble, is a very line room, in which the council 
 of five hundred sat durina: the directorial go- 
 vernment. It is large, of an octagon shape, 
 and would be admirably suited to the purpose, for 
 which it is used, did not its extreme height and 
 arched roof prevent even the strongest voice from 
 being distinctly heard. To remedy this defect,
 
 64 LETTER V,' 
 
 greeii baize is suspended on several parts of the 
 wall ; but the evil is but little removed by this 
 precaution. The first thing which attracted my 
 attention, was the military parade, in which the 
 members entered the room, and the regimental 
 tostume, in which they were dressed. Drums 
 and fifes announced their approach ; and a guard 
 of honour (for both the corps legislatif and the 
 tribunate have each a regiment) preceded them* 
 The members wear a uniform of blue cloth, em- 
 broidered with gold, a tricoloured sash, hussar 
 boots, and a cocked hat, both laced with gold. 
 To an english eye, they had more the appearance 
 of naval officers than of legislators. The meet- 
 ing was opened by the minister of the intefieur) 
 ■who ascending the tribune (or rostrum,) congra- 
 tulated in a short speech, the corps legislatif on 
 commencing its session, at a moment when the 
 restoration of peace with all the world confirmed 
 the victories, and completed the happiness of the 
 republic. The eldest member then took the 
 chair, and declared the meeting legally consti- 
 tuted. They next proceeded to choose a presi- 
 dent. Scrutineers were appointed to examine 
 the votes, which v/ere given in the following 
 manner: The names of the members were alpha- 
 betically called over, and each in his turn placed 
 a written paper, containing the name of the per- 
 son whom he chose into one of four vases, which 
 were placed on the table for that purpose* Whea
 
 LEtTER V. 65 
 
 all the members had voted, the four vases were 
 placed on as many different tables, and each 
 examined by an equal number of scrutineers. 
 These counted the votes, and conveyed the re- 
 sult to the temporary president, who, after com- 
 paring* theni together, declared that Dupuisy 
 having an absolute majority of 133 voices, was 
 duly elected. The former then left the fouteuil*, 
 to which the latter was instantly conducted. On 
 taking the chair, Dupuis ordered messages to be 
 sent to the consuls and tribunate, acquainting 
 them, that the corps legislat'if was definitively 
 constituted, and was ready to receive the mes- 
 sengers of the government. He then drew from 
 liis pocket a written paper, and read a speech, 
 in which he congratulated the meeting on the 
 happy auspices under which it began its session. 
 He had scarcely finished, when the sound of 
 drum and fife announced the arrival of three 
 counsellors of state, with a message from the 
 government. They were preceded by huissiers, 
 or ushers, in Spanish hats, with three plumes of 
 different colours, and M'crc dressed themselves in 
 their grand costume of scarlet cloth, embroidered 
 with silk of the same colour. One of them then 
 ascended the rostrum, and read a short speech, 
 declaring what the consuls had done, and what 
 still further they proposed. He congratulated 
 
 * President's chair. 
 F 
 
 i\
 
 66 LETTER V. 
 
 the legislature on the peace, and reminded the 
 members, that the war being now over, they 
 could devote their whole time to the happiness 
 and tranquillity of the people. He concluded 
 with complimenting the assembly on the conduct 
 which they had pursued in their last session, and 
 which, he said, they would doubtless continue in 
 that which was now begun. The president as- 
 sured him, in reply, that the legislative body 
 would, on all occasions, be ready to assist the 
 views of government in promoting the glory, the 
 peace, and the happiness of the nation. 
 
 The counsellors of state then retired, and the 
 president read the proces-verbal of the proceed- 
 ings and appointments of the senat cotiservateu7\ 
 as likewise several letters ; some from members, 
 with excuses for nonattendance ; others with 
 resignations; and some from authors, presenting 
 books, almanacks, ^c. to the legislature. The 
 title of one dedication entertained me not a little. 
 It was addressed, " An Coi^ps Leginlatif, au 
 premier Consul^ et a madame Bonaparte*." We 
 may conclude, that the writer was at once a re- 
 publican and a courtier. Inconsistencies are often 
 reconciled in France. 
 
 After these letters had been read, the meeting 
 was closed. The austrian, english, Swedish, and 
 
 * To the Legislative Body, to the first Consul, and to 
 madame Bonaparte. 
 
 5
 
 LETTER V. 67 
 
 Other ambassadors, were present, in a box ap- 
 propriated to their use. The venerable appear- 
 ance and military dress of my lord Cornwallis 
 dehghted the parisians ; and my national vanity 
 was not a little gratified, by the favourable com- 
 parison which the people around me drew be- 
 tween his lordship and the other foreign mini- 
 sters. " Old, Old, ce grand est milord Cornvalis. 
 II a bonne mine. II a I'air miUtaire. II a servi, 
 nest il pas vrai, mo7isieur? C'est un galant 
 homme, 7'egardcz ce petit a cot^, quelle difference! 
 quelle mauxaise tour mire, S^c*" 
 
 I believe, indeed, that, on every account, we 
 have reason to be satisfied with the choice which 
 our government has made of the noble marquis. 
 While in exteriors he satisfies the curiosity of the 
 french, and the pride of the english, he gives, by 
 the respectability of his character, the dignity of 
 his deportment, and the known moderation of his 
 principles, the surest pledge of the pacific inten- 
 tions of the sovereign, whom he so worthily re- 
 presents. 
 
 Before I conclude this long account, I must 
 mention, with regret, that the persons in the gal- 
 lery where I sat, spoke with the most sovereio'ii 
 contempt of the legislative body. "lis font 
 
 * Yes, yes, that tall man is lord Cornwallis. He has a 
 fine figure. He looks like a military man. He has served 
 in the army. Is it not true, sir i Look at that little man 
 Hear bim, what a difference 1 what a mean appearance I
 
 68 LETTER V. 
 
 t)ien*," said one man, alluding to the boot*, 
 which constitute part of their dress ; *' de porter 
 des bottes. C'est un habit de voyage — ils ne 
 resteront pas ici long temps." — ^^ Nous les payons 
 iOyOOO Jhmcs'f,'' said another, " poii?' ne J'aire 
 rien, je siiis ttonnt que Bonaparte ne se de-^ 
 barasse pas de ces gens Icl' — " Je crois bieUy'" 
 cried a third, addressing himself to me, '' que 
 monsieur mtre ambassadeur a un revenu a lui plus 
 grand, que celui de tous ces gaillards ensemble. 
 Sans leur traitement de Ugislateur ils mouroient 
 de faimp" 
 
 It is contrary to my plan to enter on any po- 
 litical subjects, or the strange levity of these re- 
 marks would lead to some very serious reflections. 
 I only give you this chit chat of the peuple sou- 
 'verain\\, as characteristic of the french, and of 
 the present order of public affairs. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 * " They do right," said one, " to wear boots— it is a 
 travelling dress. They will not stay here long." 
 
 f We pay them ten thousand francs for doing nothing. I 
 am astonished Bonaparte does not get rid of these fellows. 
 .'J I believe that your ambassador has an income of his own,, 
 larger than that of all these fellows together. Without their 
 salary of legislators, they would die of hunger. 
 
 [| The sovereign people.
 
 (69) 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 The abbe Sicard, and the institution in behalf of the deaf 
 and dumb. — His favourite pupil, Massieu. — Examination 
 of a young woman, who had become deaf at six years 
 old. — Reflections on the establishment. 
 
 Paris, december the 1st, 1801 (10 frimaire.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 Had tills morning so high a mental treat, that 
 I cannot help comnuinicating to you the parti- 
 culars without delay, in the hope of being able, 
 while my mind is strongly impressed with the 
 subject, to convey to you some faint idea of the 
 pleasure which I received. 
 
 I shall not now speak to you of splendid buildr 
 ings, of glorious monuments of human inge- 
 nuity, of renowned heroes, or of brilliant festi- 
 \als. AMiat I saw to day interested me, and I am 
 sure would have interested you, much more than 
 all such objects united ; I mean, the institution 
 (ks sourd-muets (that humane establishment for 
 the instruction of the deaf and dumb), first 
 founded under the care of the abb6 TEpec, and 
 now conducted by his worthy successor, the abbe 
 f^icard. 
 
 Having tickets offered me for an extraordinary 
 meeting, which took place this morning, I will- 
 ingly availed myself of the opportunity, and at 
 
 F 3
 
 70 LETTER VT. 
 
 ten o'clock repaired to la rue St. Jacques, where, 
 in a former convent, this beneficent establishment 
 is carried on. Here I found a large assemblage 
 of respectable persons, who all listened, with 
 pleasure and attention, to the simple, plain, and 
 unaffected manner, in which the abbe Sicard ex- 
 plained his method of giving to the deaf and 
 dumb the means of expressing their thoughts. 
 *' As foreigners," said he, " unacquainted with 
 the, language of the country which they visit, are 
 supposed stupid and ignorant by the uninformed, 
 so the deaf and dumb are often considered as 
 idiots, because they are deprived of one sense. 
 No," continued he, " they are not idiots ; they 
 have ideas as well as you, and only 'Nvant an 
 organ to express them." He then went on to 
 state, that in most educations children are taught 
 first to speak, and then, sometimes, to think ; 
 %vhereas, in his plan, he began first by teaching 
 his pupils to think, and then proceeded to in- 
 struct them how to express what they had so 
 thought*. 
 
 * The abbe Sicard, in the course of this lecture, took oc- 
 casion to remark, that of all languages, the english was the 
 most simple, the most reasonable, and the most natural, in 
 its ounstruction. As a proof of the truth of his assertion, he 
 informed us, that his pupils, as they began to learn the means 
 of conveying their thouglits by writing, were constantly guilty 
 of atigficisms. He added, that it was difficult to make them 
 lay aside idioms purely english, and still mor" so, to teach 
 thera those which are peculiar to the french language.
 
 LETTER VT. 71 
 
 To exemplify both his plan and his success, 
 he examined Massieu, his favourite and ablest 
 pupil, a young man, about twenty or twenty five 
 years old. As soon as the abb6 expressed, by 
 his gestures, any particular passion, IMassieu in- 
 stantly wrote the word appropriate to the pecu- 
 liar feeling, and then explained the meaning of 
 the Avord he had written, with a vivacity of 
 action, and a variety' of countenance, which I 
 never before witnessed in any human being, lie 
 next wrote on the M'all, with great rapidity, the 
 chain of ideas, by which the abb^ Sicard regu- 
 larly advances his scholars, from the expression 
 of a simple thought, to one of greater import. 
 Thus, beginning with the word '* voir," to see, he 
 ended, going on by regular steps, with the word 
 ' ' examiner, " to examine ; beginning with ' ' id^er, " 
 (a word created by Massieu, but answering to 
 *' avoir idee,'' or to have an idea), he ended 
 with " approfondir," to search into; and be- 
 ginning with " vouloir," to will, he ended with 
 ** bruler, " to burn with passion. Massieu ex- 
 pressed, with wonderful fire, the meaning of each 
 progressive passion, in the changes of his coun- 
 tenance, which, when animated, is uncommonly 
 fine. 
 
 In the course of this meeting, the ahb^ Sicard 
 likewise examined, for the first time, a young 
 M'oman, now eighteen, who, at six years old, had 
 become entirely deaf, and who could now only 
 
 f4.
 
 72 LETTER VI. 
 
 speak such words as she had learnt at that tender 
 age, many of which she still pronounced imper- 
 fectly, and as children are apt to do. He began 
 with showing us a memorandum, or washing bill, 
 in which this girl had drawn her gowns, petti- 
 coats, &c. according to the different forms of 
 these articles. IMassieu then, by direction of the 
 abbe, drew on the wall different things of com- 
 mon use ; to some of these she applied their 
 proper names, some she did not know, and others 
 she mispronounced. The latter defect M. Sicard 
 immediately removed, by pronouncing the word 
 himself, teaching her by signs to move her lips, 
 as he did, by blowing on the hand, and by touch- 
 ing some particular fibres of the arm. I cannot 
 satisfactorily explain this operation ; but it will, 
 perhaps, be sufficient to observe, that the abbe, 
 more than once, said, " by such and such mo- 
 tions, I will produce such and such sounds ;" 
 and that, as soon as the girl had imitated the 
 motions he made, she articulated the words, as 
 he had previously promised. 
 
 The more I saw of this institution, the more 
 was I delighted. There were forty or fifty chil- 
 dren present, who, born deaf and dumb, were, 
 by the wonderful skill and unceasing care of the 
 respectable abbe, restored to society, to happi- 
 ness, and themselves. They were seated in dif- 
 ferent parts of the room, and conversed with each 
 other, though at the greatest distance, by the
 
 LETTER VI. 7 
 
 A 
 
 means of their fingers, which were in constant 
 motion. They had every appearance of enjoying 
 good health, spirits, and vivacity. 
 
 There are all kinds of workshops, manufac- 
 tures, and schools, in the liouse of the sourd- 
 7?iuets, and the establishment is entirely main- 
 tained at the expense of the government. !Mas- 
 sieu, I hear, has displayed strong symptoms of 
 genius, and has even written some very beautiful 
 verses. 
 
 How admirable is this institution ! How ho- 
 nourable to the ino-cnuitv and the heart of man ! 
 to restore to all the enjoyments of life, and to 
 the dignity of rational beings, hapless creatures, 
 doomed by the caprice of Nature to inexpressible 
 feeling and irremediable ignorance, is perhaps 
 the highest arnl proudest eifort of human con- 
 trivance. 
 
 Of all which I have yet beheld at Paris, this 
 is to me the most interesting sight. Other objects 
 strike the imagination, but this moves the heart. 
 Farewell, my dear sir, the night is far advanced; 
 but 1 could not place my head on the pillow, till 
 I had attempted to communicate to you, how- 
 much I had been pleased with this admirable and 
 philanthropic institution. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 A lU or evening pariy. — French remarks on Sliakspeare, an^ 
 Mr. Fox. — Dullness and pedantry of parisian society. 
 
 Palis, dcccmber 3d, 1801 (3 frimaire.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I HAVE just received your last letter, and as 
 you complain, that I am not sufficiently minute 
 in my descriptions of private society, I will en- 
 deavour to satisfy your curiosity, by giving a 
 faithful account of an assembly, or thky as it is 
 called here, to which I was invited a few even- 
 ings since. 
 
 The lady, at whose house this entertainment 
 was given, belonged to the old court; but having 
 remained in France during the whole of the revo- 
 lution, has preserved her property. I drove to 
 her hotel, about eight in the evening, and after 
 passing through a dark and dirty antichamber, 
 in which her servants and those of her guests sat 
 very quietly, while I passed, without moving from 
 their seats, I found my way, not without difficulty, 
 into the " salon,'' or drawing room : In this 
 apartment, the walls of which bore the faint 
 semblance of having been painted white, some 
 thirty years before, and on which shattered rem- 
 nants of tarnished gold might still be discovered,
 
 LETTER VIT. 7^ 
 
 I perceived near tlie fire, tlie lady of the mansion. 
 She half rose from her seat, as I approached, 
 and after a short " bon jour monsieur," conti- 
 nued in a M'hisper, an earnest conversation, in 
 which she v/as engaged with an old gentleman, 
 who, as I have since learnt, mus a ci-devant 
 duke, lately returned from emigration. As I was 
 left entirely to myself, (for I was introduced to 
 no one) I had ample time to examine every thing 
 around me. The room, sombre in itself, was 
 rendered still more so, by a patent lamp sus- 
 pended in the middle, which was the only light I 
 perceived, and which simply answered the pur- 
 pose of making " darkness visible." 
 
 There were about twenty or thirty persons 
 assembled, of different ages, and of different 
 sexes. Having heard so muchoffrench gayety, 
 I was astonished at the melancholy countenances 
 I saw around me, and at the general stupidity of 
 this party. In one corner was ])laced a whist 
 table, at which, two ci-devant countesses, a mem- 
 ber of Vancienne acadimie frangaise, and a for- 
 mer Jinancier were disputing for sous. There 
 were round the fire, two rows of fautcuils, or 
 arm chairs, in which the ladies not occupied with 
 cards, were seated in awful state. Two or three 
 young mc'n dressed ct rang/aise, with the pre- 
 posterous addition of immense neckcloths, ear 
 rings, and half a dozen under waistcoats, lounged 
 about the middle oi the room, and now and then
 
 75 LETTER VI li 
 
 caught a glimpse at their favourite persons, iu 
 an adjoining glass. The fire was monopolized by 
 a party of zealous disputants, who, turning their 
 backs to the company, and talking all together, 
 formed a separate group, or rather a debating 
 society, round the chimney. From the loudness 
 of their voices, and the violence of their ires- 
 tures, I supposed they were discussing some great 
 national question, and expecting to gain much 
 useful intelligence, listened with all the painful 
 attention of extreme curiosity. I soon discovered, 
 to my no small astonishment, that it was not the 
 fate of the nation, but the accuracv of an ex- 
 pression, which excited their zeal. The abbe 
 Delille had, it seems, in a poem lately published, 
 used this phrase, 
 
 • ** Je n'entends que silence, je ne vois que la nuitV 
 
 Whether it was possible " to hear silence," and 
 " see night," was the great subject of dispute: 
 and the metaphysical distinctions, nice definitions, 
 and pedantic remarks, which this question excited, 
 formed a curious specimen of the french charac- 
 ter. Some of the ladies joined in the debate; 
 and I know not to what height it mio-ht have been 
 carried, had not the arrival of the tht inter- 
 rupted the orators, and stopped the conversation, 
 with a subject more agreeable to the general 
 taste. 
 
 * I hear only silence and see only night.
 
 LETTER VII. 77 
 
 At twelve o'clock, the beverage I have men- 
 tioned, which the french think unwholesome at 
 all times, and which even the en<?;lish fear to take 
 at so late an hour, was placed near the fire, on a 
 large table, surrounded with cakes, creams, cus- 
 tards, a large tureen of soup, and a bowl of 
 punch, the party crowded round the table, and 
 helped themselves to the refreshments it con- 
 tained. When the ceremony was over, those 
 who did not return to the card tables, entered 
 into conversation ; and as literary subjects were 
 still the favourite theme, a young man, with a 
 pompous manner, and a solemn tone of voice, 
 said, addressing himself to me, " Is it true, sir, 
 that there are englishmen, so blinded by national 
 prejudice, as to prefer x^otre bizarre Shak- 
 speare *, to our divine Racine?" Endeavouring 
 to avoid a discussion, wliich I knew the answer I 
 M'as inclined to give vvould create, I contented 
 myself with observing, that Shakspeare and Ra- 
 cine were such different authors, that it was ab- 
 surd to compare them. " As well," said I, 
 ** might you draw a resemblance between the 
 beauties of Switzerland, and those of Versailles." 
 " The proper simile," retorted the first speaker, 
 " would be between Versailles and a barren 
 heath, on which some few beautiful plants may 
 have been accidentally scattered, by the capri- 
 
 * Your droll Shakspeare.
 
 78 LETTER VII. 
 
 cious hand of nature." The whole circle joined 
 in the triumph, which my antagonist supposed he 
 had gained, and I in vain attempted to recapitu- 
 late, and to translate some of the striking pas- 
 sages of Shakespear. Though all condemned our 
 " heaven-inspired poet," I soon perceived, that 
 few had ever read, and none understood the sub- 
 lime work which they presumed to criticise. 
 
 " Speaking of english authors," cried the mem- 
 ber of the ci-devant academic fran^dise, "makes 
 one think of english orators. I see, by Chateau- 
 Brian's account of England, that the cause of Mr. 
 Fox's retirement from parliament, has been at last 
 discovered; and that it arose from his mental 
 powers having been weakened by the effect of ex- 
 cessive drinking. To this I suppose one must 
 attribute his late unwarrantable attack on the 
 house of Bourbon." 
 
 Astonished at this extraordinary assertion, I 
 took the liberty of assuring the gentleman, that 
 Mr. Fox's talents were as perfect as ever, and 
 that his last speech was one of the finest efforts 
 of human reasoning. " Pcu^donncz,'" cried the 
 academician. " Mr. Fox could never reason. 
 He was indeed once a fine declaimer, but as to 
 the powers of argument, he never possessed 
 them." I was ridiculous enough to combat this 
 absurd opinion, and to assure him, that there 
 was not an englishman, (whatever his political 
 sentiments might be) who would not willingly
 
 LETTER VI I. 79 
 
 bear testimony to tlie wonderful argumentative 
 talents of the extraordinary man in question. 
 
 I talked in vain, the whole company joined 
 with the academician, who pour toute reponse^, 
 said, " C^est ^Ir. Pitt, qui sait 7'aisomier, 7nais 
 pour Mr Fo.v il declame joUment, wild tout 
 soil talent. Vous me perinetterez de savoir 1" 
 assuming a look of great dig'nit}^ " parceque 
 cest moi qui a traduit ses discours." So saying, 
 he turned away, and soon after the company dis- 
 persed. 
 
 Can I give you a stronger instance of the 
 taste and justice, with which the french pro- 
 nounce on the merits of our authors, and public 
 characters ? 
 
 If Shakspeare is not a poet, nor Mr. Fox an 
 orator, where are we to look for examples of 
 perfection? 
 
 Thus it is on every subject in this country. 
 The french suppose, that they understand english 
 books, and english politics, much better than we 
 do; and this is not the first lesson which I have 
 received. I have often been contradicted on 
 constitutional, as well as literary questions ; and 
 I have always found, that the company supported 
 
 * By way of an unanswerable argument, said, " It is Mr. 
 Pitt who understands reasoning; but as to Mr. Fox, he can 
 declaim prettily : all liis talent consists in this. You will 
 allow me to know, for it was I," assuming a look of great 
 dignity, " who translated his speeches."
 
 80 LETTER VII. 
 
 not the opinion of the native, whose local kno^r- 
 ledo;e deserved some little credit, but the bold 
 assertion of their countryman, who was generally 
 believed and applauded, in proportion to the 
 extravagance and singularity of the doctrine which 
 he laid down. 
 
 I forgot to mention, that great offence being 
 taken at ]\Ir. Fox's remarks on the old govern- 
 inent, a gentleman took great pains to persuade 
 me, that lancien rtgime was the freest consti- 
 tution under the sun. You will not be surprised 
 to hear, that he did not make me a convert to his 
 opinion, and that I assured him, if such was a 
 free government, I hoped it would be long, very 
 long, before England should possess it. 
 
 This evening's entertainment gave me alto- 
 gether but a very unfavourable opinion, both of 
 french society, french taste, and french gallantry. 
 There was no mirth, no general conversation, 
 and scarcely any intercourse between the men 
 
 and women. As to Mrs. , she was left to 
 
 the uninterrupted enjoyment of her own thoughts, 
 for no person took the trouble of addressing 
 her. Her english dress, however, did not es- 
 cape the criticism of the ladies; and my pro- 
 nunciation was equally a source of amusement 
 to the gentlemen. I shall only add, that if this 
 be a specimen of french society, I may obtain 
 much information at Paris ; yet I shall certainly 
 receive but little pleasure from my journey. 
 
 I am, kc.
 
 ( SI ) 
 
 LETTER VIIL 
 
 Bonaparte.— The monthly review or parade in the court of 
 
 the Thuilleries. 
 
 Paris, december the 6th, i8oi, (15 frimaire.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 JVlY curiosity is at last g-ratified. I have seen 
 Bonaparte. You will readily conceive how much 
 pleasure I felt to day, in beholding, for the first 
 time, this extraordinary man, on whose single 
 exertions the fate of France, and in many re- 
 spects that of Europe, has for some time de- 
 pended. 
 
 I was fortunate enough to obtain places in one 
 of the apartments of Dicroc, the governor of the 
 palace, from the windows of which I saw the 
 review to the greatest advantage. It is impos- 
 sible to describe the impatience with which we 
 awaited the appearance of Bonaparte. Mrs. 
 
 well observed, that her eyes ached with 
 
 looking. 
 
 As soon as the court of the Thuilleries, (that 
 is to say the ground, which is enclosed with iron 
 railings, near the Carousel,) was filled with the 
 different regiments, who arranged themselves with 
 wonderful skill, and without the least confusion, 
 notwithstanding the limited space allotted them, 
 
 G
 
 S2 LETTER VIII. 
 
 the generals descended from their horses, went up 
 stairs into the palace, and, after some Httle delay, 
 conducted Bonaparte to the door. lie instantly 
 sprang on his wliite charger, (which waited for him 
 at the gate) and commenced the review. As he 
 passed several times before the window where I 
 sat, I had ample time to examine his counte- 
 jiance, his figure, his dress, and his manner. 
 His complexion is uncommonly sallow, his coun- 
 tenance expressive but stern, his figure little but 
 well made, and his whole person, like the mind 
 which it contains, singular and remarkable. If I 
 were compelled to eompare him to any one, I 
 should name Kerable^ the actor. Though Bona- 
 parte is much less in size, and less handsome than 
 that respectal)le performer, yet in the construc- 
 tion of the features, and in the general expres- 
 sion, there is a strong resemblance. There is, 
 however, such originality about the appearance of 
 the first consul, that, without having seen him, 
 it is difficult to form an idea of his person. The 
 picture of Bonaparte at the review, exhibited 
 some time back in Piccadilly, and the bust in 
 Sk^j^e china, which is very common at Paris, and 
 which has probably become equally so in London^ 
 are the best likenesses I have seen. As to his 
 dress, he wore the grand costume of his oflice, 
 that is to say a scarlet velvet coat, richly embroi- 
 dered with gold, to this he had added leather 
 breeches, jockey boots, and a little plain cocked
 
 LtTTEPl Vllt. 83 
 
 hat, the only ornament of which was a national 
 cockade. His hair unpowdered was cut close in 
 his neck. 
 
 After riding through the ranks, and receiving the 
 salutes of the officers, he passed by every regiment, 
 the colours of which were lowered as he went on. 
 He then placed himself in the middle of the pa- 
 rade, and his generals and aides-de-camp having 
 formed a group around him, he distributed swords 
 and firelocks of honour to such officers and sol- 
 diers, as in different campaigns had deserved 
 them. Berthier, the companion of his victories, 
 and now minister of war, presented one by one 
 these articles to Bonaparte, who having read the 
 inscription which was engraved on each, record- 
 ing the action by which it was deserved, delivered 
 with his own hands the respective badges of ho- 
 nour. After this ceremony was over, the diffe- 
 rent regiments passed by the first consul, and 
 the captain of each company or troop saluted him 
 in passing. The cavalry went in full gallop, and 
 as they approached him stopped with wonderful 
 neatness. Thus concluded the review. He then, 
 rode with liis officers to the palace gate, dis- 
 mounted, and retired to his ajiaitments, followed 
 bv the srenerals and a strong detachment of men. 
 
 The spectaole was altogether extremely bril- 
 liant. The windows of the palace, of the gallery 
 of the Louvre, aiid of all the adjoining houses 
 
 were filled M'ith ladies elegantly dressed, aud the 
 
 Go 
 A.
 
 84 LETTER VIII. 
 
 iron gates wliich separate the court from the pa- 
 lace, were surrounded by the people. I shall 
 say nothing- of the discipline of the troops, not 
 being a military man, and conseciuently little con- 
 versant with such matters. I shall only speak of 
 what struck the eye. The consular guards are 
 the handsomest men I ever saw, scarcely any are 
 less than six feet high, and if we may believe the 
 report of persons connected with the govern- 
 ment, every individual in the corps owes his si- 
 tuation to lone* service, or some distino-uishcdact 
 of valour. Their uniform is a long coat of fine 
 blue cloth, faced with white, and edged with red, 
 with a yellow button, on which is written "garde 
 difs consuls.'"' They wear M'hite waistcoats and 
 breeclies, and a fur cap, with a gilt plate, on 
 which appears the same inscription as that on the 
 buttons. "' La garde consulaire a cheval,'" or 
 consular horse guard, wears the same uniform as 
 the foot of that service. The dragoons are dressed 
 in green, with a casque, from which is suspended 
 a large braid of hair. 
 
 Several regiments of the line, which formed part 
 of the review, have been highly distinguished 
 during the war, particularly the celebrated demi- 
 hrigade, which at jMarengo is said to have saved 
 tlie life of Bonaparte, when in the ardour of 
 battle he had exposed himself to almost certain 
 destruction. These regiments M'ere ill dressed, 
 the men were little, and their whole appearance was,
 
 LETTER VIII. ^5 
 
 uhen compared witli the consular guard, far from 
 favourable. The guides commanded by the young 
 Beauharnois, (madame Bonaparte's son) were 
 very elegantly dressed in scarlet hussar uniforms, 
 and mounted on light bay horses, splendidly ca- 
 parisoned. Generally s))eaking, the horses of 
 the cavalry were very indifferent, excepting one 
 ■fine regiment of blacks, which was commanded 
 by Louis Bonaparte, the third brother of the 
 consul. 
 
 As soon as Bonaparte left the ground the re- 
 giments began to file off by different gates, in 
 the same good order in which they had arrived, 
 and though nearly ten thousand men had been 
 on the pararle, in less than a quarter of an hour 
 not an individual remained. 
 
 The o-enerals wear blue uniforms, richly em- 
 broidered, with tricoloured sashes. The aides-de- 
 camp are very handsome young men, dressed in 
 bluejackets, long pantaloons, and hussar cloaks, 
 the whole almost covered with gold. I remarked 
 amongst them Lauriston, who took the prelimi- 
 nary ratification to London, and young le Brun, 
 son of the third consul, who at the battle of IMa- 
 rengo, behaved with uncommon valour, and re- 
 ceived in his arms the unfortunate and gallant 
 Dessaix*. 1 make no apology for the length of 
 this letter, for knowino- that vou wished to have 
 
 * Gfjiieral Dcssaix, by whose valour the buttle of IVJareiigo, 
 in which he full, was principally gained. 
 
 G 3
 
 86 LETTER VIII. 
 
 a particular account of the consular reviews, I 
 have been purposely as minute as possible. 1 hese 
 reviews regularly take place on the 15th of every 
 rnonth, according to the republican calendar. 
 
 Adieu!
 
 ( 87 ) 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 The tribunate. — Speech of Porfalis on presenting the code civil 
 in the corps legislatif. — Debate in the tribunate on the same 
 subject. 
 
 Paris, december the aoth, i8oi, (29th frimaire). 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I WENT this morning to the t?ihimate, which 
 holds its sitting in the ci-dccant Palais royal, in 
 order to hear discussed the proposed project of 
 civil laws. This reminds me, that by a strange 
 and unaccountable omission, 1 have not in any 
 of my letters mentioned the speech, which the 
 celebrated Portalis delivered on the 24th of last 
 month, in presenting the measure to the corps 
 legislatif, and which speech I was so fortunate as 
 to hear. To remedy my neglect, I shall begin 
 my letter with mentioning what passed on that oc- 
 casion ; and shall conclude it with the debate, 
 which took place to day, on the same subject, in 
 the tribunate. 
 
 Portalis is a man of grave, respectable ap- 
 pearance, about fifty years old, and so short- 
 sighted, as to be nearly blind. As soon as he 
 ascended the rostrum, the utmost silence pre- 
 vailed, and the legislators seemed to listen with 
 that profound attention, which is only given to 
 those from whom we expect either amusement 
 
 G 4
 
 88 LETTER IX. 
 
 or instruction. As for me, I received both from 
 his discourse; and I do not remember to have 
 been yet so well contented with a pubhc speaker 
 in France. Pie spoke for rather more than an 
 hour and a half, without notes and without hesi- 
 tation. He explained with precision, the prin- 
 ciples and the heads of the code, which he was 
 ordered to lay before the legislature ; and while 
 he was clear and intelligible in every part of his 
 speech, he was frequently extremely eloquent. 
 His principal aim seemed to be, as he expressed 
 it, " de profiter des lumieres de notre tems, mais 
 pas de les avancer*." He particularly recom- 
 mended a system of laws, corresponding with those 
 of other nations, and which should strengthen 
 the ties of matrimony, and the security of do- 
 mestic happiness. Among the many strong ex- 
 pressions, with which his speech abounded, I 
 remarked the following. ^' Pour aimer le monde 
 enticr, on pent dire, il faut aimer premiere- 
 ment sa patrie, mais cclui qui commenceroit a 
 aimer le monde entier, finira o, n aimer auciin 
 paj/6-f. La philosophie a fait sen devoir, c'est 
 
 * To take advantage of the discoveries of the present age, 
 but not to run before them. 
 
 f To love the world at large, it may be truly said, that 
 we ought first to love our own country ; but he who begins 
 with loving the world at large, will probably end in not loving 
 iiny country whatever. Philo£0]^hy has done its duty ; it i»
 
 LETTER TX. S^ 
 
 ^ vous, citoyens legislateurs, iVachtxer h "ootre. La 
 philosophic commence, afi^i'^'^e i^ bonheur des ko?nmes, 
 mais c'est la legislatmi qui Vacheve, &c." The 
 legislature ordered his speeeh to be printed, and 
 adjourned. 
 
 To day this important question was debated in 
 the tribunate ; and I must confess, that the ex- 
 pectations, whicii I had formed, were not a little 
 disappointed. I did not, it is true, flatter myself 
 with the idea of hearing- either a Fox, a Pitt, a 
 Sheridan, or a Mirabeau; but I imagined, that 
 among the members of the only deliberative assem- 
 bly, now in France, some few men would be 
 found capable of discussing with sense, argu- 
 ment, and extended views, a measure so impor- 
 tant, not only to the present happiness of the 
 country, but to that also of the latest posterity. 
 It "would be too presumptuous to say, that there 
 are no such men in the tribunate. On the con- 
 trary, I know, that there are some members of 
 very superiour knowledge, great genius, and libe- 
 ral principles. I shall be forgiven, liowevcr, for 
 remarking, that the talent displayed on this occa- 
 sion was by no means equal to the dignity of the 
 sul)ject in question, or v/orthy the assembly in 
 which it was discussed. Five or six members 
 
 for you, citizen legislators, to discharge yours. Philosophy 
 begins the huppincsb of men ; but it is iegisiulion which 
 completes it, &c.
 
 yO LETTER IX. 
 
 had put their names clown, as intending to speak, 
 and each was heard in his turn. Nothins: could 
 be duller than these speeches ; every one of which 
 was read from a written paper. A very ridiculous 
 circumstance arose from this manner of speaking. 
 As each of the discourses had been previously 
 prepared, there Mas no reference to the argu- 
 ments used in the debate; and the advocates and 
 opposcrs of the measure, equally disregarded, 
 and left unanswered, the remarks of those who 
 happened to precede them in the debate. I was 
 not a little entertained witn the conceit of one 
 of these lamp-oil orators, who discovered, that 
 tiTiless they restored la loi d'auba'me*, englishmen 
 might buy up all the woods of France, and thus, 
 at one blow, deprive the government of its ships, 
 and the people of their fuel. 
 
 The only decent speech delivered on the occa- 
 sion was by the celebrated Boissy dAnglassf, who 
 
 * " La loi d'aubaine," by which foreigners were prevented 
 froni inheriting or purchasing lands in France. 
 
 -f Boissy d'Anglass. This worthy man was president of the 
 national assembly on one of those occasions, when the mob 
 burst into the hall, and attempted to dictate to the members. 
 
 "With heroic courage, he refused to put any question, while 
 the labble remained in the assembly; and persevered in his 
 resolution, notwithstanding the poignards which were raised 
 against him, and the dreadful example of one of his colleagues, 
 who was murdered by his side.
 
 LETTER IX. 91 
 
 adduced some very stroug reasons against the 
 proposed project. Speaking of England, he called 
 the climate, " ce climate thicbreu.v et humide^'/' 
 
 The expression may apply ; but from the damp 
 and foggy weather, which, during some time has 
 prevailed at Paris, I am apt to think, that it is 
 not exclusively descriptive of Great Britain. 
 
 After this tame and languid debate, more re- 
 sembling the dull repetition of school boy's exer- 
 cises, than the speeches of a great popular assem- 
 bly, the measure was rejected by a large majority. 
 I shall make no remarks on this decision, as 
 doing so would necessarily lead into a political 
 discussion, which it is m}' gieat object to avoid. 
 
 The tribunes, being but one hundred in num- 
 ber, sit in a small hall appropriate to their use. 
 There is a gallery, A\hich from the specimen of 
 elo(juence displayed this day, I was not surprised 
 to find nearly empty. The tribunes wear a uni- 
 form of blue cloth, embroidered with silver, hus- 
 sar boots also edged with silver, white waistcoats, 
 blue pantaloons, and a tricoloured sash. Tiiey 
 also begin and end their meetings with military 
 Jionours. 
 
 I am, Sec. 
 
 * That dark and wet climate.
 
 ( 92 ) 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Bid dcs Stravgers, (a public subscription ball). — Tliinnesg 
 of the^laclies' dresses. 
 
 Paris, december 27th, i8oi (6th nivose). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WAS last night at a public ball, given by a club 
 or society, called, " le salon des etrangers." 
 This is an establishment, formed on the plan of 
 our subscription houses in England, and lately 
 opened in a handsome hotel ia la rue Grange 
 Batelicre^ the windows of which look on the 
 Boulevard. It consists of frenchmen, who arQ 
 admitted by ballot, and of foreigners of all na- 
 tions. The latter are received, (being introduced 
 by a member) on paying the annual subscription 
 of five louis. The house is handsomely fur- 
 nished, and consists of several large rooms, 
 which are open every morning and evening, for 
 the use of the subscribers. Besides the ordinary 
 games played in such sort of houses, there is a 
 very excellent billiard table, and a room fitted 
 up for reading, In which are found periodical 
 publications, and all the newspapers, french, 
 german, and english. It was this latter circum- 
 stance which induced mc to subscribe; and it is 
 here where I usually end my walk, and amuse
 
 LETTER X. 93 
 
 myself for h^ilf an hour, in running over the 
 pnblications of the day. 
 
 The club or society, by way I suppose of 
 gaining to its aid the protection and interest of 
 the fair, without which nothing is to be done in 
 France, nor, to speak the truth, any where else, 
 gives a ball, about once in ten days, and it was at 
 one of these assemblies, tliat I was present last 
 niuht. 
 
 At t\velve o clock, Mrs. and I drove to 
 
 '^ le salon des etrangers,"' (for no ball begins at 
 an earlier hour) and the string of carriages was 
 so very long, that we were nearly an hour in 
 getting up to the door. I cannot help taking this 
 opportunity, of connnending the admirable order 
 preserved by the police, on all such occasions at 
 Paris. Though, from several streets meeting on 
 the Boulevard, the crowd was great, yet there 
 was not the least accident, nor even the smallest 
 confusion. The staircase, by which we ascended, 
 Avas elegantly ornamented with orange, and other 
 artificial flower trees. When we entered the out- 
 ward roon], there were already so many persons 
 assembled, that it was not without considerable 
 difiiculty, tliat we made our way into the saloji^ 
 or drawing room. Never shall I forget my sur- 
 prise, when, looking round me, I perceived the 
 dress, or rather the nakedness of the ladies. I 
 had heard much of the indccencv, of which some 
 females were guilty, in respect to costume at
 
 g4f LETTER X. 
 
 Paris, and I had already seen specimens of the 
 thinness of their ajjparel; but till this evening, 
 I tliought it only the failing of a few. I now saw 
 at least two luindred women, of different ages, 
 and different situations in life, all displaying, 
 "without reserve or disguise, the beauties, vhich 
 they had either received from nature, imitated by 
 art, or believed themselves by the aid of flattering 
 fancy to possess. The young and the old, the 
 handsome and the uglv, the fair and the brown, 
 all prodigally dragged into common view, those 
 charms, which a virtuous Avoman conceals from 
 motives of modesty, and a sensualist from those 
 of discretion. The buxom girl of sixteen, the 
 newly married woman, and the superannuated 
 mother of a numerous family, were all equally 
 exposed. Naked necks, naked backs, and tlieir 
 form, scarcely concealed by a transparent petti- 
 coat, left nothing to the powers of fancy. 
 
 You will think, perhaps, that I am drawing; an 
 exaggeiatcd picture; but I can assure you, on 
 the honour of a man of truth, that such was the 
 costume of at least two thirds of the ladies pre- 
 sent at tliis ball. The head-dresses, classically 
 imitated from the ancient statues, were elegant ; 
 and the number of diamonds, pearls, and other 
 ])recious stones, strikingly brilliant. There Mere 
 many handsome women ; but their beauty was 
 uniformly of one kind. Tlie embonpoint, and the 
 nez retrousse, characterised them all. I looked
 
 LETTER X. Q5 
 
 iti vain for those graceful figures, and those 
 o-recian countenances, which form so often the 
 ornament of an english assembly. Among the 
 
 most celebrated belles, madame R , the young 
 
 M'ife of an affluent banker^ was pointed out to 
 
 me; madame V , an Italian lady, much the 
 
 fashion at Paris, and the renowned madame 
 Tallien. I think the first rather remarkable, for 
 the singularity of her dress, (her head being or- 
 namented " a la cochoise," that is to say, as 
 the peasants of a particular province dress their 
 hair) her extreme fairness, and downcast look, 
 than for any real extraordinary beauty. Madame 
 
 V is a fine dark woman, '* d'ltne cerfa'i/ic 
 
 age," with beautiful eyes, and a commanding 
 person. Madame Tallien, notwithstanding her 
 great fame, has, according to me, rather an 
 agreeable countenance, and an enchanting smile, 
 than features excessively striking. She is fair, 
 as the fairest of our countrywomen ; her neck is 
 beautiful; and her countenance, mild and good 
 humoured, is said to be a true picture of her 
 mind. Vet, in spite of these advantages, I never 
 should have discovered in her, the reigning beUe 
 of Paris. She, too, is not in the first bloom of 
 youth. The dances were, the cotillon, (Mhich 
 they call la coniredame) and the walse. In the 
 former, the ladies displayed that decided supe- 
 riority, which the french possess in the art of 
 dancing:. As to the walse, I was astonished at
 
 ^6 LETTER X; 
 
 , the decency, with which that very indecent dance 
 was danced, by the young parisians; who, placing 
 their arms round the uncovered persons of th*? 
 handsomest women in the room, yet had suffi- 
 cient command of themselves, not to shock either 
 their partners, or the company, by being guilty 
 of the slightest impropriety. I expressed my sur- 
 prise to an elderly lady, at this extraordinary for- 
 bearance. " Croi/ez moi, monsieur^',''' she re- 
 plied, " gue nos jeunes gens voient tout cela avec 
 ritidiffcrencc la plus parjalte. " 
 
 What a lesson does this remark hold out to 
 the fair sex, of every description ! That female 
 is not less deficient in coquetry, and in the art of 
 commanding the affections of men, than in every 
 f)rinciple of decency, who wantonly exposes to 
 the common gaze of passing curiosity those at- 
 tractions, which are only valuable, as long as the 
 sight of them is the exclusive privilege of a fa- 
 voured lover. 
 
 The libertine, if he at first looks on with ad- 
 miration, soon ceases to care for that which every 
 eye may behold; and apathy, united to contempt^ 
 is the sentiment which succeeds to passion. 
 
 I return to the ball. The crowd became 
 greater and greater, and the heat was excessive; 
 but the scene' altogether was lively and amusing, 
 
 * Believe me, sir, our young men see all Ihis wit?i the most 
 perfect indifference.
 
 LETTER jt. ^7 
 
 A frenchman de Vancien trgime, hearing me 
 express my surprise at the costimie of the ladies, 
 assured me, that excepting the foreigners, there 
 was not cue woman de bonne compagnie in the 
 room. This term of ** bonne compagnie,'" is so 
 dftcn used, and so seldom explained, that I 
 really do not know, whether he meant that tliere 
 was not a woman of the old court, or that there 
 was not a virtuous female present. If he in- 
 tended the former, it only proved, that these balls 
 were not frequented by the noblesse ; if the iattef, 
 he was much sev^erer in his remark than I had 
 been. I only complained of the ladies being in- 
 decent ; he asserted that they were profligate. 
 At any rate, the one fault leads so rapidly to the 
 other, that it was difficult to make a mistake. 
 
 The room was well lighted ; the music excel- 
 lent, and the ball, being formed of all the differ 
 rent classes of society, highly entertaining to a 
 foreigner. There were a great many cnglish pre* 
 sent ; most of the ambassadors, and many other 
 distinguiflied chara6lers. 
 
 I returned home about three in the morning. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 H
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 New year's day.— The Palais royal, 
 
 Paris, January the ist, 1802 (ii nivose.) 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 HE people of all nations cling, with such fond 
 partiality, to their old customs, that it is next to- 
 impossrble to eradicate eveii. the most trifling of 
 these' by the power of law. I reffiarkcd a strong 
 proof of this to- day. It was an immenio-rial cus- 
 tom in France to celebrate new year s day, by 
 makhig presents of confectionary, trinkets, and 
 such other articles, to near relations and parti- 
 cular friends. 
 
 Notwithstanding the republican almanack, and 
 the use of it in all public acts, newspapers, &c. 
 which makes the year begin with vendemiaire, 
 answering to our 23d of September, the first of 
 January is still considered as solely entitled to 
 these honours. The Palais royal, as it is univer- 
 sally called (notwithstanding its first revolution- 
 ary and already superannuated name of " Jay^din 
 d' Egalite,''' and its present constitutional one 
 of *^ Palais du Tribunat,'") was thronged this 
 morning with persons of all classes, who soon 
 xlispersed themselves among the various shops, in 
 order to purchase these little annual presents, or 
 *' ^trennes," as thev are called in the lanouajre
 
 tETTER XI. 99 
 
 of the country. The ieNvellers vied with each 
 other in displaying, in tht-ir windows, all the 
 taste, falhion, and magnificence, of their choicest 
 merchandise; and diamond rings, pearl lockets, 
 and amber necklaces, offered to gallantry elegant 
 but expensive means of testifying its ardour. The 
 milliners brought forth their finest lace, their 
 most tawdry colours, and their most extravagant 
 patterns ; and the confectioners, with streamers 
 at their door, ornamented cakes within, perfumed 
 hoiihons^ and amorous mottoes, soon found the 
 means of filling their respective shops. 
 
 What an extraordinary place is the Palais 
 royal ! There is nothing like it in any toM'n in 
 Europe. I remember hearing an english epicure 
 once observe, " that as scon as the peace took 
 place, he would give himself th.e happiness of 
 passing six Aveeks in the Palais royal, without 
 once going out of its gates." Certainly, if p- 
 man be contented with sensual pleasures, there 
 is not one which he may not gratify M'ithin the 
 walls of this building. Restaurateurs, or taverns, 
 where dinners are served from ten sols to two 
 louis a head. Coffee houses, where, for three- 
 pence, the lounger may pass the whole of his 
 day in playing chess, talking politics, or reading 
 the papers. Gambling houses, where the man. 
 of pleasure, at the risk of all that is dearest to 
 hini in life, purchases the anxious feelings which 
 fear and hope excite, and where the chevalier 
 
 H 2
 
 JOO LiTTER xr. 
 
 dindustrie finds the disgraceful means of a di's-- 
 honouralile existence. Tailors, haberdaj^hers, 
 silversmiths, and watchmakers, offer every va^ 
 riety of clothing, of ornament, and of machinery. 
 Booksellers' shops are seen in every cornerj 
 Mhere the homme dc lettres finds his favourite 
 authors, the romantic young lady her novels, 
 and the politician his pamphlets. Opticians, 
 where the frequenter of spectacles purchases his 
 opera glass, and the philo-soplier his telescope. 
 Crowds of unfortunate, and sometimes lovely 
 females, challenge, with every variety of dress^ 
 the attention of passengers, and, wdiile they 
 offer a too easy banquet to libertines and dotards, 
 fill every reflecting mind with pity and with sor- 
 row. Such are the objects which the Palais 
 ■royal presents. I ought to add, that while the 
 cellars are filled with inferiouv restaurateurs, or 
 eating, houses^ w'here bands of music are con- 
 stantly playing, freqivently dressed in theatrical 
 caHumes; the upper rooms are occupied with 
 o-ambling parties, cabinets of intrigue, and coffee- 
 houses*. The latter have every variety of de- 
 
 * Coffeehouses.— —The number of coffeehouses (pre- 
 perly so called, as coffee and Ihiutum are the only arti- 
 cles which they supply) is very great at Paris, and they 
 are constantly crowded. Swarms of idle persons spend 
 their lives at these places, playing chess, talking politics, 
 reading the journals, or sitting still. I have often counted 
 more than one hundred individuals in a coffeeroom of a
 
 LETTER XT. 101 
 
 eoration ; some are painted to represent tlie 
 Alpo, and otliers are covered with glass, reilect- 
 ing in every direction a different room. The 
 gambling tables are numerous ; and I am assured, 
 tiiat on the stairs, descending from one of these, 
 there is a pawnbroker's shop, where it sometimes 
 happens, that a ruined gamester, after losing the 
 contents of his purse, deposits, for the sake of 
 making a last and desperate effort, his watcli, his 
 buckles, and sometimes his coat. With the trifle 
 
 moderate si^c ; and tlicre is no hour of tiie day when the 
 iHme scene does not present itself. Paris, under every govern- 
 ment, and at all periods, will bear the saaie appearance as to 
 amusements. Montescpiieu, in his Persian Letters, gives the 
 following description of tlie coffeehouses of liis time, which 
 applies exactly to those of tlie day ; 
 
 " Le cafe est fiis cii vsage <} Paris, il v a un grand nombre dc 
 tiidisons puhlifjifi.s, oh on Ic dhtribue. Dans qtielqucs uncs de 
 <ts ?naisuns on dit des nouxcllts, dans d' autrcs un June aii.v 
 tehees. II y en a unc ou. I' on apprctc le cafe, dc telle manitrc 
 qii il donnc de I'csprit d cent qui en prcnncnt ; au moins, de 
 tous ceu.v qui en sortent, il n'y a personne que nt croic qu il en a 
 quatrejois plus que lursqu' il est f.ntre," 
 
 " Coffee is much in use iji Paris. Tlierfj aje a great many 
 public houses where it is distributed. In some of these 
 h/Mises the news of the day is reported, and in others chess 
 i? played. There is one, in which coffee is prepared, in such 
 an extraordinary manner, that it nnprovcs the intellects of 
 those who take it : at least, of those who come froii) this 
 house, there is not one wiio does not think himsejf four time? 
 at wi^c as when he went in." 
 
 II 3
 
 102 LKTTER XT. 
 
 advanced him he returns, and, if successful, re- 
 deems, on going away, the objects he has pledged. 
 If he fail, a pistol, or the river, ends his mise- 
 rable days. Such is the consequence of play, 
 and such are the scenes which this profligate 
 place presents. 
 
 The buildings, which formerly filled the centre, 
 are now pulled doM'n, and that part is really a 
 garden, which many persons frequent for exer- 
 cise. There are ice houses at each end, and 
 chairs scattered about, on which the parisians sit 
 ja rows, and take lemonade and other refresh- 
 ments. The space under the arcades, not oc- 
 cupied by the shops, is, as formerly, filled every 
 hour of the day, and the greatest part of the 
 vjighr:, with figures of all descriptions, with per- 
 sons of every class, and, I might add, of every 
 nation in the world. 
 
 " Le th&dtve de Monteaussier" is still in the 
 Palais royal, besides many smaller play houses. 
 Puppet shows, dwarfs, giants, quack do6itirs, vo- 
 ciferating newsmen, and quiet venders of libels, 
 who in a whisper offer you indecent and forbidden 
 publications, complete the catalogue of many- 
 coloured curiosities which this place presents. 
 
 Adieu. I dare not add the reflections which 
 so singular a spot would naturally create. Were 
 I to do so, scarcely a volume would contain 
 them. 
 
 Adieu.
 
 ( 103 ) 
 
 LEITER XII. 
 
 L' institution des travau.r dcs aveiigles, or establisliment lor 
 the suppoit and employment of the blind.— Tiicir difFci-eut 
 occupations. — The plate glass manufactory. — Descriptiou 
 of another meetuig at the hospital of the deaf and dumb. — 
 Mas^Leu taught gahanisjn and stenography. 
 
 Paris, January the x6th, i8oz (a6 nivose.) 
 MY DHAR SIR, 
 
 I 
 
 WENT to day to see the establishment formed 
 tor the protection and instruction of the blind. 
 It is called " rinstitution des travaux des 
 aveugles*, " and is situate in the Fauxbourg 
 St. Antoinc, not far from the ci-(kra)it Bastille. 
 It is here, where persons afHicted with that oTeat- 
 est of all luiniau calamities, the loss of sight, 
 are taui>;ht the means of o-ainino; a comfortable 
 existence, of occupying hours which would otlier- 
 wise be painfully tiresome, and of rendering them- 
 selves useful to the community. 
 
 At the " :;<jance," or public meeting, which I 
 attended this morning, I saw several persons, 
 men, women, and children, either born blinil, or 
 rendered so l)y illness, now able to read, to write, 
 to count, to print, and to perforu) on dilVerent 
 pieces of instrumental music. The mode by 
 
 * The estublijhmcnt fur the employmrnt of the lilind. 
 
 II 4
 
 104- lETTER xir. 
 
 which they read is by feeling the letters, which 
 are purposely raised on card ; and they did so 
 with such rapidity, that ic was difficult in hear- 
 ing them to discover their misfortune, V/hat par- 
 ticularly struck me, was the inojenuity of a blind 
 woman, who had taught her child to read, an in- 
 fant about five years old, not afflicted with this 
 calamity. 
 
 There is a manufactory of steel carried on in 
 the building, in which the blind turn the wlieel; 
 nnd they also make whips, writing cases, purses 
 and paper toys of all sorts, which are sold for 
 their private emolument. There is likewise a 
 press, or printing machine, in M-hich the whole 
 process is performed by the blind ; and I am 
 told, books published by them are more than 
 commonly correct. 1 iie women knit, seu", and 
 perform other kinds of needlework ; and all 
 of them either sing, or peribrm oji some instru- 
 ment. They gave us a kind of concert, which, 
 if not very good, proved at least that they un- 
 derstood the principles of music. I am almost 
 ashamed to mention, thut my pleasure in wit- 
 nessing this truly philantluopic establishment, 
 was not a little diminished by the dreadful coun- 
 tenances of the blind, as the eyes of many, not 
 being closed, exhibited a very disgusting appear- 
 ance. I knew, indeed, that they were not sen? 
 sible of this defect, and that I ought to be satisr 
 ^ed with an inltitution, which, ii^ rendering thea^
 
 LETTER XII. 105 
 
 both happy and useful, had fully discharged its 
 objci^h To the truth of this refle6tion my reason 
 fully assented ; yet, malgrk moi*, my senses re- 
 volted at the sight of human beings, left so im* 
 perfect by the hand of Nature, or so deformed 
 by illness. 
 
 In leaving " Ics aveugles," we drove to the 
 great plate glass manufactory, which is carried 
 on in the neighbourhood. This celebrated esta- 
 blishment suffered severely during the revolution, 
 but is now daily recovering its former prosperity. 
 Six hundred persons are at present employed, 
 and I saw mirrors preparing of various and ex- 
 tensive dimensions. The operation of pouring 
 quicksilver on glass, by which it obtains its re- 
 flecting qualities, M'as performed before us ; and 
 we were much delighted with the rapidity and 
 neatness shown in the process. 
 
 As I began this letter with the institution in 
 favour of the blind, I think I cannot do better 
 than to conclude it, by speaking to you again of 
 that of the deaf and dumb. I have, since my 
 first letter on that subject, attended two extra- 
 ordinary meetings of the " sourd iuuetSy" the re- 
 sult of which 1 uill now give you. 
 
 Masskti, the deaf and dumb young man, of 
 whose superiour talents and acquirements I gave 
 ^ou so favourable an account, appeared to great 
 
 * In spite of myself.
 
 106 LETTER Xir. 
 
 advantage at one oF these, in which he received, 
 for the first time, a lesson on "■ gahanism.'" As 
 soon as the abb6 Sicard wrote on a slate, " gal- 
 vanism is a name given to a mode of electricity, 
 in consequence of its having been discovered by 
 Galvanic an italian physician." Massieu eagerly 
 snatched the pencil, and wrote, in reply, " I 
 saw the word galvanism in one of the newspapers, 
 and not knowing what it meant, looked for an 
 explanation in the dictionary of tlie academy. 
 Not finding it there, I concluded that it was 
 taken from a proper name. It then gccurred to 
 me, that it was a new medicine, discovered by 
 the individual, whose name it bore; and that, 
 perhaps, by means of tliis sjjecific, the inventor 
 might cure the deaf and dumb, comme notre 
 stii^neur Je-yus Christ*/' 
 
 Never bhall I forget tlie animation which 
 brightened the countenance of Massieu, v.'hile 
 he rapidly wrote these words, or the curious and 
 anxious attention with which he followed the 
 explanation afterwards given him of galvanisu}. 
 In the course of the lecture, lie showed, by his 
 questions and answers, th.at he was perfectly 
 conversant v.ith the general princij)les of elec- 
 tricitv ; and the ease with which he cauc'lit the 
 doctrine of galvanism was truly astonishing, I 
 am sure you will be struck, as I was, at the 
 
 * As our Saviour did of old, 
 3
 
 LETTER XII. 107 
 
 sin<rul:uity of his conceiving-, that galvanism mig'ht 
 kad ro tlie cure of the deaf and dumh. How 
 kindly has Nature implanted in our minds a dis- 
 position to cherish hope, even on the slightest 
 foundation ! It is this which gives a zest to all 
 our pursuits, which supports us in illness, ia 
 affliction, and in sorrow ; and no man really 
 ceases to be happy, till he ceases to hope. 
 
 I did not know, at the time, what I have since 
 learnt, and which, if true, renders the circum- 
 stance still more singular — I mean, that some 
 fleaf and dumb pers )ns have been actually re- 
 stored to the senses of hearing and speaking, by 
 the power of galvanism. This is said to have 
 taken place in some part of Germany, I believe 
 at Vienna ; but I only give it as a report. 
 
 At the second meeting, I saw Masakn taught, 
 also for the first time, stenograpliij, or the art of 
 short-hand writing. After thfc common prin- 
 ciples had been laid down by the written in- 
 structions of the master appointed to give him 
 this lesson, the abi)e Sicard desired Massieu to 
 define the art which had just been explained to 
 him. Me immediately wrote for answer, ex- 
 pressing the greatest joy in his countenance, 
 " C'est Tart d'ecrire aussi vite que la parole. La 
 stenographic va comme le cerf ou Ic clicval, mais 
 lecriture ordinaire comme le bocuf*. " Through 
 
 • It is the art of writing as quick as speech. Steaoj,raphy 
 movcB like tlie dcti or the horse, but conunoii writing like 
 
 the OTi.
 
 lOS XETTKR XII. 
 
 the whole of the lesson, he displayed the utmost: 
 clearness of idea, and the greatest facility of re- 
 ceiving instruction. 
 
 Before I left the house of the sourd muets, I 
 visited the boy called the savage of Aveyron. 
 But the subject is sufficiently interesting to deserve 
 a separate letter ; I shall, therefore, for the pre- 
 sent, take my leave, and will devote my next to 
 the description of this child„ 
 
 I am, ^'c.
 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 The young savage, or wild boy of Aveyron. — His histor)-.-*- 
 The stute in which he was found, and the means used to 
 restore him to the use of his senses.— The success with 
 which these efforts have been attended. 
 
 Paris, January the X7th, iSol (ajnirosf.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 RESUME in this letter the subject promised 
 in niv last. 
 
 The child, so well known in Europe by the 
 name of ** le jeunc sauvage trAveyron," or ^' the 
 young savage of Aveyion," was found in the 
 wood of that name, at the age of eleven or twelve 
 years, by three huntsmen, who some time before 
 had seen the same boy at a distance. He was 
 looking for acorns and roots, which constituted 
 his principal food, when they perceived him : 
 and, at the moment of being seized, he attempted 
 to get away, by climbing up an adjoining tree, 
 lie was taken into a cottage ; but, at the end of 
 a week, he made his escape from the woman, to 
 whose care he was intrusted, and fled to the 
 mountains. Here he wandered about, exposed 
 to the se\erest cold of winter, with no covering 
 but a ragged shirt, hiding himself at night in the 
 most solitary places, and in the day approaching 
 the neighbouring villages. After leading, for
 
 110 LETTER XIII. 
 
 some time, this vagabond life, he came of hia 
 own accord, into an iniiahited house, situata' 
 lii the canto?i of St. Sernah?. W^iii he was 
 seized, watched and taken care of for three days, 
 and Mas then removed, firft to the hospital of 
 St. AfriijU4^, and afterwards to that (jf Rhodes, 
 where he was kepi several months. iVt eacli of 
 these places, where, of course, he was the subject 
 of much interesting observation, he was found 
 wild and impatient of control. He Avas in con- 
 stant motion, and at every instant seemed to seek 
 an opportunity of escaping. \\y order of the mi- 
 nister of the interiour, he was brought to Paris, 
 at the end of the 8th year of the republic (about 
 two years ago), under the care of a poor, but 
 respectable, old man, M'ho became so attached 
 to him on the journey, that he slicd tears at part- 
 ing with him, and in going away declared, that 
 if he ever should be deserted, lie M'ould adopt 
 iiim as his child. 
 
 The physician Pincl, to whose inspection the 
 boy was hrll submitted, reported, that the organs 
 of sense in this unfortunate child were reduced, 
 from the want of use, to such a state of debilitv, 
 that, in this respect, he was inferiour to several 
 domestic animals. His eyes, M'ithout fixing them- 
 selves, and without expression, \vandered wildly 
 from one object to anotlier, incapable of distin- 
 guishing the nearest from the most distant ob- 
 jects. His organ of hearing Vr-as alike insensible
 
 LETTER XlTt. Ill 
 
 of tlie loudest noise, or the softest harmony. The 
 power of the voice was lowered to such a degree, 
 that he could not make an unifrrm and guttural 
 sound. The sense of smelling was so little exer- 
 cised, that he received, with the same indifference, 
 the odour of the choicest perfumes, or the nause- 
 ous stench of the filthy couch on which he lay. 
 To concUjde, the sense of touching was confined 
 to the mere mechanical functions of taking hold 
 of bodies. 
 
 In respect to his intellectual ]iowers, the same 
 physician stated him to i)e incapable of attention 
 (excepting as to the objects of his immediate 
 M'ants), and consequently incapable also of all 
 those operations which are created by attention. 
 Destitute of memory, of judgment and of the 
 power of imaginaticm, and so limited, e\ien in 
 the ideas relative to his Mants, that he had not 
 yet learnt to open a door, or to get upon a chair, 
 in order to reach those objects of food which were 
 held above his grasp. In fact, destitute of every 
 means of communication, having neither expres- 
 sion nor intention in tlie motions of his body, 
 pas'sing suddenly, and without any presumable 
 cause, iVoni the gloom of apathy, to the most 
 immoderate fits of laughter. Insensible of every 
 kind of moral affection, his discernment was but 
 a calculation of gluttony ; his ])leasure an agree- 
 al)le sensation of the organs of taste ; his sense, 
 an aptitude to piuducc some incoherent ideas
 
 112 LETTER XII r. 
 
 relative to his wants — in one word, all his ex- 
 istence seemed purely animal. 
 
 M. Pinel afterwards compared " le sauvage 
 d'Aveyron" with children born, or become, irre- 
 vocably idiots; and he was inclined to conclude, 
 that this unhappy child, doomed to an incurable 
 evil, was not susceptible either of sociality or 
 instruction ; but he expressed this opinion with 
 considerable doubt. 
 
 Dr. Itard, physician to the national institution 
 des sourd mueis, from whose interesting little 
 pamphlet I have taken this account, though ft ruck 
 with the fidelity of the picture drawn by Dr. 
 Pincl, and the justice of his remarks, was un- 
 willing to accede to the unfavourable conclusion 
 with which he had closed his report. Founding^ 
 his hopes first on the doubtful cause of his sup- 
 posed idiotism, and next on the possibility of the 
 cure, he humanely determined to make the edu- 
 cation of this deserted child his particular study. 
 This education, or moral treatment, he began, on 
 the general principles laid down by doftor.'y 
 Willis and Crichton, and by professor Pincl 
 himself, though he could not appeal to any par- 
 ticular precepts, a,s no such case had been fore- 
 seen in their works. Jle conceived, that he had 
 lave principal objects to effect. 
 
 1st. To attach him to social life, in rendering 
 that life more agreeable than the one which he
 
 LETTER Xlir. 113 
 
 tlow led, and particularly b}' making- it more ana- 
 logous to the life which he had lately quitted. 
 
 2dly. To revive the sensibility of his nerves 
 by the most poignant stimulants, and sometimes 
 by exciting the liveliest affections of the mind. 
 
 3dly. To extend the sphere of his ideas, by 
 «:ivinir him uew wants, and bv increasing' his con- 
 uection with surrounding objects. 
 
 4thly. To lead him to the use of speech, by 
 dragging into use the power of imitation by the 
 imperious law of necessity. 
 
 .5thly. To exercise, during some time, on the 
 objects of his physical wants, the most simple 
 operations of his mind, and thence to lead it to 
 objects of instruction. 
 
 Dr. Itard then fully explains the methods which 
 he took towards these important objects, in which, 
 by incessant care, humane treatment; and the 
 assistance of madame Guerin (the female to 
 whose protection, as a nurse, the child was in- 
 trusted), he has so far succeeded, that he no 
 longer entertains any doubt of his ultimate suc- 
 cess. It is impossible for me, within the com- 
 pass of a letter, to enter into the details given on 
 this subject. I shall therefore content myself 
 with translating the observations, with which Dr. 
 Itard concludes the account. 
 
 " It may be safely concluded," says he, '' from 
 my observations, that the child, known by the name 
 of the savage of Aveyron, is gifted with the free ex- 
 
 I
 
 114 LETTEll XTII, 
 
 crcise of all his senses; that he gives continual 
 proofs of attention, recollection, and memory ; 
 tJKit he can compare, discern, and judge — in one 
 word, that he can apply all the faculties of his 
 understanding toohjects relativ^e to his instruclion. 
 It is necessary to remark, as an essential point, 
 that these happy changes have taken place in the 
 short space of nine months, and that too in a 
 subject, who was thought incapable of attention. 
 Hence we may fairly conclude, that his edu- 
 cation is possible, if it be not alread}'' certain,, 
 from the success already obtained, independently 
 of that which may naturally be expected from the 
 assistance of time, which, in its constant unvary^ 
 ins: course, seems to sjive to inftincv all that 
 strength and power of unfolding itself, which it 
 takes from man in the decline of life." 
 
 I ought, perhaps, to mention, that this unfor- 
 tunate child, to whom the name of " Victor" 
 has been given, because lie listened easily to the 
 sounds which formed that name, has already pro- 
 nounced the word " lait," milk) that lie has 
 learnt to put the letters together which compose 
 that word: and that he reo-ularlv does so, when 
 he wishes to drink, taking also in his hand a 
 little cup to receive his favourite beverage. Di-. 
 Itard assured me, that he entertained no doubt 
 of his ultimatel}' speak:ing. 
 
 He is warm, passionate, grateful, and he has 
 already given strong proofs of his attachment to
 
 LETTER xrrr. i 15 
 
 his nurse, niadame Clueiin. His person is not 
 very remarkable, but his countenance is niiicl. 
 His face has been cut in several places. Hq 
 cannot yet use any two senses at the same time ; 
 and, to enable liim to hear, it is necessary to 
 bind his eyes. Wlicn he is ant^ry, he makes a 
 noise like tlie o-rowlinrr of a dou:. He is now 
 dressed like another boy ; but I am told, it was 
 long before they could persuade him to bear the 
 restraint of clothing. 1 remarked, that wliile we 
 were in the room, he kept his eye constantly on 
 the door, and that the desire of escaping* has not 
 }et abandoned him. 
 
 To conclude, it seems that he has a mark in 
 his neck, which proves, almost to a certainty, 
 that his life was attempted in his infancy. The 
 hapless offspring of illicit love, he was prob;iIjly 
 ill St wounded by the trembling hand of an un- 
 natural mother; and then, under the supposition 
 of being dead, thrown into the wood, where he 
 so long wandered, and was at last discovered. 
 
 If you feel as much interested as I do on this 
 suljject, you will easily pardon the prolixity of 
 my letter. I only regret, that I cannot send you 
 a more perfect account. 
 
 I am, tS:c. 
 
 I 2
 
 ( H^ ) 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 Detailed account of all the theatres or specladcs-. 
 
 Paris, January 3lst, 1802 (i Pluviose)^ 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 You have, doubtless, been surprised, that I 
 have not in any of my letters spoken of theatres, 
 or spectacles as they are called at Paris. I pur- 
 posely omitted doing so, till I had had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the greater part of those which 
 are now in vogue, that I might place them all be- 
 fore you at one view. 
 
 *' Le theatre francois de la r^publique," formerly 
 called, " le theatre du roi," situate in la rue de 
 la Loi, ci-devant de Richelieu, deservedly takes 
 the lead. It is here, where the tragedies of 
 Racine, Corneille, and Voltaire, are constantly 
 acted ; and where also the best comedies on the 
 french stage are represented. The most cele- 
 brated performers in the tragic line are, Talma, 
 and la Fond, among the men ; and madame Pettit, 
 (otherw^ise called, mademoiselle Vanhove,) ma- 
 demoiselle Yolncy, and mademoiselle Burgoing, 
 among the women. Talnia and la Fond have 
 each their admirers, and it is a disputed matter 
 in society to which the palm is due. The same 
 thino- may be said of the actresses. In some
 
 LETTER XIV. 117 
 
 circles, matlame Pcttit is commended as a per- 
 former of very extraordinary talents, highly su- 
 periour to her competitors; in others, mademoi- 
 selle Vohicy is the favourite ; and lately, made- 
 moiselle Biirgoing has disputed the victory with 
 both. It is presumptuous perhaps, in a foreigner, 
 to form a iudo-ment on a subject on which natives 
 are divided. I shall only say, that to my english 
 ear, the roaiing declamation, common to all the 
 french tragedians, is dreadfully offensive. I nnist 
 add, that I have more than once mistaken the 
 violence of their action for bombast, and the per- 
 petual motion of their features for grimace. 
 After makins: this candid avowal, I do not de- 
 serve or expect any credit for the judgment I am 
 about to pronounce. I think Talma less bad 
 than la Fond ; but such is the difference of 
 national taste, that I am sure neither of them 
 \voukl be suffered on an english stage. I enter- 
 tain the same opinion of madame Pettit, and 
 mademoiselle Volney, though the latter is to my 
 mind, infinitely supcriour to the former. As to 
 mademoiselle Hurgoing, she has the great merit 
 of bemg natural ; and it is for this reason, I 
 suppose, that in several of the newspapers here, 
 «he is accused of being cold and insipid. I saw 
 her perform " Zaire" a few evenings since, and 
 1 never remember to have been more amused. 
 She is a beautiful young girl of sixteen, with 
 a fine expressive countenance, and an elegant 
 
 i3
 
 ] iS LETTER XIV. 
 
 «2*racefal fiQ-iire. Her voice is clear and artlcu- 
 late ; her manner simple and unaffected; and her 
 representation of the different passions strong 
 and impressive, M'ithout " outitepping the mo- 
 desty of nature. " Her dress was elegantly sim])le, 
 and her deportment truly correct. After the play, 
 *' Zaire" was called for again and again, (this is 
 the highest compliment which can be paid to a 
 performer at Paris) and it Mas long before she 
 could be persuaded to appear. At length the 
 curtain drew up, and Talma led her, " still un- 
 -villing, " towards the audience. She seemed really 
 distressed, by the thunder of applause which 
 greeted her, and she ran off the stage, as soon 
 as respect to the company would permit. 
 
 If mademoiselle Buro-oinsr has the iirood sense 
 to remember, that this early praise can only be 
 secured by incessant study ; and if she has the 
 courage to disregard the ridiculous criticisms of 
 the french journals, (in which she is daily re- 
 commended to use more action, to speak in 
 a louder tone of voice, &c. in short, to lay 
 as'de the hapjr,- naturel^ which constitutes her 
 merit) it is highly probable, that in a few years 
 she may become the first tragic actress of Europe. 
 
 If, generally speaking, I am not pleased with 
 the french tragedians, I entertain a very different 
 opinion as to their comic actors. In this line, 
 I conceive their stage is very superiour to ours. 
 The celebrated mademoiselle Contat, wlio, for
 
 LETTER XIV. 119 
 
 SO many years, has been the delight of the public, 
 is still here. She retains all her powers of actiiif^, 
 and nuieh of her beaiitv. \lo\(; is as admirable 
 as ever; and Dezencourt and Dugazon, in their 
 different Jines, cannot be rivalled. Fleury too, is 
 incomparable ; and Avhoever lias seen him act 
 Frederic the Cd, in " Les deux Pages," has seen 
 the most perfect performance, Avhich any stage 
 ever presented. Mesdemoiselles IMezeray, and 
 Mars (cadette), are also excellent actresses; and 
 St. Fal, in many parts, deserves to be considered 
 as a very respectable actor. 
 
 In the "• Pliilosophe marie,'' in the " Vieux 
 Cclibataire, " and many other comedies, and in 
 the farces of " Les deux Pages," and of 'Me 
 Circle," (in which most of these eminent actors 
 perform), I have sometimes forgotten, that I was 
 at the play, and believed I saw before me, the 
 characters which they represented. In the ''Abb6 
 rEpee," (which has been so well translated into 
 cnglish) " Morvcf deservedly obtains great ap- 
 plause, for the excellent and natural manner, in 
 which he represents the philanthropic abbe. How 
 interesting is tliis play ! those who have seen, as 
 I have done, the " instiiution dcs aourd 7nuets,'" 
 view it with double pleasure. The whole appears 
 like a real scene, and the abbe Sicard has so 
 admirably followed the example of his humane 
 predecessor, that the soul of the latter seems 
 
 revived in the former ; and in seeing the 
 
 I 4,
 
 120 LETTER XIV. 
 
 play, we forget that Tabbe TEp^e no longer 
 exists. 
 
 The theatre francois, though a very large 
 buikUng, is always full, when the good actors 
 perform. You will be surprised, perhaps, when 
 I add, that I have not found '' Moliere's" plays 
 act as well as I expected. I was present a few 
 evenings ago at the representation of '■ Tartuife," 
 and thougli all the parts were admirably cast, I 
 M^as heartily tired before the curtain had dropped. 
 I have more than once heard the audience hiss 
 some of his farces, believing them to be modern 
 ones; and to say the truth, they are not on the 
 stage, what they appear in the closet. I cannot 
 determine, vdietherthe change of manners, which 
 has taken place, makes us no longer relish a 
 satire on follies, which exist no more; whether 
 tlie metre in which these plays are written, fa- 
 tigues the ear, or that the broad fun which they 
 are intended to produce, is too coarse for modern 
 taste. It mav arise indeed, from that taste beins; 
 vitiated, for Voltaire said, long ago, 
 
 " Vous parlez de Moliere, oh son regne est passe, 
 *' Le siecle est bien plus fin, notre scene epuree, 
 " Du vrai beau qu'on cherchoit eat eufin decoree*. 
 
 * You speak of Moliirc ! Oh ! his reign is past ; our age is 
 much more refined in its ideas; our stage, cleared of such 
 trash, is at last adorned with the really beautiful, which was 
 £o long sought for in vain.
 
 LETTER XIV. , 121 
 
 Without pretending to decide, whether my jadg'» 
 inent be bad or good, I can only say, that I have 
 never yet been entertained M'ith the performance 
 of one of IMoHere's plavs; and if I may iudo;e 
 from the thinness of the house, in some cases, 
 and the unusual noise of it in others, the pari- 
 skms are of rny opinion. Even tiie " Bourgeois 
 <rentilhomme" is obliged to borrow the assistance 
 jof a (iance: and with this aid, brings but an in- 
 different audience. 
 
 To conclude my account of *' le th6L\tre fran- 
 ^ois," I ought to say something of their company, 
 and of their accommodations. All the .spectnclcs 
 lierc lose much of their effect, from the undress, 
 in which it is the fashion to frequent the \)lay 
 houses, excepting on a first representation of a 
 new piece, wiicn the ladies make it a point to 
 aj)pear " en grand costume." On common occa- 
 sions, hats or morning caps, shawls and coloured 
 gowns, are the toilet of the ladies; and boots, 
 round hats, and great coats, that of the gentle- 
 inen. Wax candles are not used at all; and one 
 solitary lustre of (what we call in England) 
 patent lamps, suffices for the whole building: 
 this throws a dim and melancholy light on the 
 countenances of the audience, and on the ap- 
 pearance of the house in general. Nothing, in- 
 deed, can be less lively, than a frcnch theatre. 
 " La gallerie," which is of course filled with in- 
 feriour company, occupies that part of the build-
 
 122 LETTER XIV. 
 
 iiii>*, which in England forms the front and side 
 boxes, and the boxes below are behind the gallery. 
 " Les prenii<^res" are immediately above these, 
 answering in height to our green boxes ; but 
 tliey are considered as the principal seats, and 
 are accordingly the dearest. 
 
 There are four tiers of boxes above, which, 
 under the respective names of 2me, 3me, 4me, 
 and 5me, diminish in price, in proportion as }0u 
 ascend. A box may be engaged before hand, by 
 taking all the places, which vary in number, from 
 three to eight ; and when this is done, no person 
 whatever has the right of com -ng there, without 
 the permission of those by >vhoni it is hired; and 
 it is not necessary, as in London, to come before 
 the conclusion of the first act. The box, for the 
 whole of the evening, is private property. It is 
 but justice to add, that if the french theatres are 
 less gay than the engiish, they are infinitely more 
 orderly; and I never remember to have seen any 
 thing like a dispute, or riot at any of the spec- 
 iaclcs. Women, too, of a certain description, 
 do not ply for custom, (with the single exception 
 of one theatre, which I shall afterwards name) 
 as at Covent Garden, and Drury Lane, and in- 
 deed are rarely seen at the larger play-houses. 
 The price of each ticket in the first places, is six 
 livres, twelve sous, answering exactly to five shil- 
 lings and sixpence of our money. The stage 
 box, ornamented with scarlet cloth, richly em-
 
 LETTER XIV. 1C5 
 
 broiclercd, is reservc<t for the family of the first 
 consul; but he generally occupies a little logc 
 grille, or shaded box, in which he cannot be 
 seen, immediately under the large one, in which 
 niadame Bonaparte often sits. 
 
 The next theatre which I shall mention is, 
 " the opera," or " le tli^'atre de la r<:''publi(iue, et 
 desarts," by which latter name it is daily adver- 
 tised, but never called. 
 
 An englishman just arrived at Paris, will be 
 much disappointed, if, in going to the opera, he 
 expects to lind that blaze ot" beauty, that striking 
 coup d^ceil, and that brilliant assemblage of rank 
 and fashion, to which he iias been accustomed in 
 the Hay market. A conBoissenr, and "lover of 
 soft sounds," will turn away with equal disgust 
 from a performance, in which the miserable rant 
 of french composition takes the place of the best 
 italian music. But to those, who are contented 
 with splendid exhibition, graceful attitude, and 
 extraordinary agility, this theatre affords an 
 amusement decidedly unequalled. The ballcfs, 
 in this respect, deserve all their celebrity ; and 
 the opera, in addition to the first figurantes in 
 Europe, and the most striking decorations, lias 
 to boast some very superiour dancers, without 
 countinfr either Vestris, Dehayes, or mademoiselle 
 C'hamroi, of whom I shall probably have occasion 
 to speak hereafter ; but who, though engaged, 
 have not yet appeared this season. The most
 
 1C4 LETTER XIV. 
 
 flistingiiishcd dancer at present is mademoiselle 
 Clotilde, an almost gigantic beauty, who, to great 
 strength and extraordinary height, unites much 
 grace, agility, and knowledge of her profession. 
 Her person is well made, her figure commanding, 
 mid her countenance expressive. Next to her 
 in reputation is madanie Gardel, who is de- 
 servedly a great favourite with the parisian pub- 
 lic ; and madame Vestris, madame Chevigney, 
 and several others, are always received with con- 
 siderable applause. If the french ballet lias a 
 decided advantajxe over the enj^lish, it arises from 
 tlje great art and neatness, with which they con- 
 trive to fill the stage. It is n.ot an unusual thing, 
 to see in processions or dances, which require 
 the pomp of show, two hundred persons assem- 
 l)lcd at a time, all of whom arc so achnirably 
 drilled, that tlie whole proceeds M'ith the utmost 
 regularity. Lais is the only singer, who enjoys 
 anything like popularity; and judges of music 
 assure me, that his voice is uncommonly good 
 
 As to the audience, I have only to refer you 
 to the remarks which I have alreadv made about 
 " le theatre francois." It is the fashion to be, if 
 possible, less dressed at the opera, than at any 
 other spectacle; and the boxes (very few of 
 which are hired by the year) are exactly; on the 
 same footins; as those of the french theatre. The 
 price is something dearer. 
 
 The lighting is equally defective; in short,
 
 LETTER XIV. 125 
 
 the whole amusement consists In the dancino-; 
 vhich, notwithstanding the extraordinary degree 
 of perfection, to wiiich it is carried, does not, in 
 my mind, snfficiently repay you for tlie amui of 
 hearing the hoarse screaming of execrahle singers, 
 and for the fatiq-ne of heinsr three or four hours 
 locked up in a hot and gloomy theatre. I never 
 visit this house, without feeling tlie truth of lord 
 Chesterfield's remark, who well observed, that, 
 in going to the opera, he always left his under- 
 standing at the door, with his half-guinea. I 
 cannot help taking this opportunity, of mention- 
 in": a sino'ular trait in the french character. 
 Notwithstanding tlie levity of which, they are, 
 perhaps, not unjustly accused; and notwithstand- 
 ing their passion for talking, which I fancy is 
 also indisputable, the most solemn silence pre- 
 vails at their spectacles; and if an individual, 
 during the longest and dullest performance, ven- 
 tures to speak, though in a whisper, he is in- 
 stantly called to order. I am afraid that the 
 theatre in the Hay market would soon loose half 
 its subscribers, if such a rule were to be enforced 
 in London, though a Banti, or even a Billingtou 
 were the occasion of it. The staijc box of this 
 theatre, also ornamented and embroidered, is 
 kept I'or the use of the first consul. 
 
 After " le tlujdtre fran^ )is de la rcpublique," 
 •and " the opera," the most esteemerl is " le theatre 
 comiquc rue Feydeau." The building is elegant. 
 
 5
 
 1Q.G LETTER XIV. 
 
 and thoiiG:h smaller than the otiicr two, vet sutKi 
 cicntly .spacious. It is of a eircular form, sup- 
 ported by Corinthian piUars, and prettily deco- 
 rated. It is here, where arc performed comic 
 operas, and little pieces, in which are blended 
 dialojz^ue ami music*. The singers are very good, 
 and the actors respectable. " Le Caliph de Bag- 
 dad," " la Maison a vendre," and " la Folie," are 
 the performances, Mhich have attracted the greatest 
 crowds this winter. Mademoiselle Phyllis is the 
 principal performer. She is a very pretty Avoman, 
 with an excellent voice, and an elegant person. 
 
 " Fevdeau," as it is commonlv called, is much 
 frequented by the fashionables of Paris, and is by 
 many preferred even to the larger theatres. " Vau- 
 deville"' is an extremely pretty little theatre, where 
 short lively pieces are acted, enlivened with songs, 
 all of which have an epigrannnatic turn. Cele- 
 brated authors, distinguished public characters, 
 and temporary occurrences, are often the subjects 
 of these pieces. The philosopher of " Ferney," 
 is well represented in one of these called, " Vol- 
 taire," as are, " Florian/' " Gcsncr," "Scarron," 
 &c. in the pieces called, by their respective 
 names. When lord Cornwallis honoured this 
 little theatre with his presence, couplets were in- 
 stantly sung in celebration of the peace; and a 
 farce has lately been acted here, called, '' Ic 
 Peintre fran^ois a Londrcs," in wliich a very 
 handsome compliment, is paid to the euglish
 
 LETTER XTY. V27 
 
 character. Madame Henry is the heroine of 
 *' Vaudeville." She is a good actress, and one 
 of the most beautiful women 1 have vet seen in 
 France. 
 
 *' Lc theatre de Louvois," is larger than " Vau- 
 deville;" but smaller than " Fcydeau." Here 
 plays are acted mostly of two or three acts ; but 
 they sometimes perform longer pieces. I sav/ at 
 this liouse, a few nights since, a comedy taken 
 from rieldin2:"s Tom Jones. It was a sentimental 
 drama, and neither ill written, nor ill acted ; but 
 the ridiculous use of the following expression, 
 *' Tom, mon cher Tom*," in the midst of a very 
 pathetic scene, had such an effect on my muscles, 
 that I could not recover my gravity for the rest 
 of the evening. Apropos ; the french have a 
 most extraordinary aptitude to make mistakes in 
 translating, and adopting our english appellations. 
 In a. serious drama, or in a novel taken from our 
 language, the vulgarism of addressing a young 
 lady, by the name of, " miss," is retained in 
 french ; and the absurd manner in which the 
 word is pronounced, united to t!ie coarse fami- 
 liarity of the expression, often destroys the effect 
 of the best imagined passages. In the same 
 manner, " Mrs." instead of being translated 
 " madame," is written "mistriss;" and if " a lord 
 M'illiam," or a *' lord Charles" is mentioned, he 
 
 » " Tom, my dear Tom."
 
 1-3 LETTER Xir. 
 
 is sure to be called in the next page, " le clievalier 
 baronet," &c. A respectable old steward re- 
 ceives the childish name of " Dick," a heroine is 
 " miss Peggy," and a renowned \varrior, " sir 
 Jack, ^' or *' admiral Billy. "' I resume my subject. 
 The actors of " Louvois," are tolerably good; 
 the house is about the size of our little theatre in 
 the Hay market, and the pieces represented here 
 are often entertaininu*. 
 
 *' Le th&dtve de la rue Favart," to which " To- 
 pera Buffa," or the Italian opera has lately re- 
 iuoved from *' la salleolympique," is a handsome 
 building, the boxes of which are so far more 
 lively than those of the other theatres, that they are 
 open. In most of the play-houses at Paris, the 
 boxes are separated by a partition on each side, 
 like the division of the private ones in London. 
 This is not done at " Favart," and the effect is 
 favourable to tb.e appearance of the theatre ; the 
 company not being concealed from view, as at 
 the other ' ' spectacles." Madame Bolla has lately 
 made her appearance on this stage, and has ex- 
 cited a considerable degree of public curiosity. 
 She is generally much admired ; and when her 
 name is announced, the house is sure to be full. 
 The music is excellent, the orchestra is well 
 chosen, and some of the actors are uncommonly 
 good. The " opera Buffa" is particularly patro- 
 nized by madame Bonaparte, who has a box here, 
 and seldom fails to attend, when any favourite
 
 LETTER XIV. 1'29 
 
 piece is performed. The first consul is likewise 
 said to be partial to this house. 
 
 Besides the six principal theatres, which I have 
 already enumerated, and which are not only the 
 most frequented, but also the most central, 
 being all situate in, or near " la rue de la Loi;" 
 there are several others scattered about the town, 
 AV'hich are full evcrv nio-ht. The build in srs of 
 % many of them are pretty, and the acting far from 
 indifferent. 
 
 The "theatre dc Montausier," in the Palais 
 royal, is devoted to little farces, and to that sort 
 of comedy, which rather forces an involuntary 
 laugh, than claims a smile of serious approbation. 
 The blunders of a clownish servant, the tricks of 
 Scap'ui, or the caricature of some reigning fashion, 
 and now and then a sentimental piece of one 
 act, (for " sentiment"' is the order of tiic day, at 
 Paris) constitute the kind of amusement, usually 
 offered at this house. At this theatre are lobbies, 
 i)( foytrs as they are called, in which the ladies of 
 the " Palais royal" roam at large, as at Covent- 
 garden and Dnuy-lane, On this account, " Mon- 
 tausier" is not much frequented by women of 
 character ; though now and then it is the fashion, 
 even for the first females of the place to make 
 j)artics, and go there. 
 
 " Le theatre de ]\[oli^rc," as it was called, till 
 last M'eek, when it assumed, I know notMhy, the 
 name of " thtalre National et Etranger," is si- 
 
 K
 
 130' LETTER Xir. 
 
 tuate in '' la rue St. Denys." It is a very elegant 
 little theatre, and the backs of the boxes are 
 Govered with glass, by which means the audience 
 are reflected, and doubled on every side, I saw 
 here, a few evenings since, " le Lovelace Anglois, 
 ou la Jeunesse de Richelieu," an excellent come- 
 dy, Avhich, to my great surprise, was very well 
 performed by the actors of this house. 
 
 " L'Ambigu-comique," at the most distant part 
 of the Boulevard, not far from the ci-devant 
 Bastille, is much frequented, on account of its 
 splendid processions. Apiece called, 'MeJuge- 
 ment de Solomon," has been so extremely popular, 
 as to render it very difficult to get a seat, when 
 it was performed. After several fruitless attempts, 
 I succeeded last night in gaining admittance ; 
 and I must confess, that I was much disappointed. 
 The theatre is little and dirty ; and the stage is 
 too conhned for the shows presented on it, to 
 produce any effect. * ' Le Jugement de Solomon, "' 
 notwithstanding its great celebrity, seemed to me 
 a very tiresome, dull, uninteresting piece of tawdry 
 parade. 
 
 *' Le theatre des jeunes Artistes," Is also on 
 the Boulevard, very near '' rAmbigu-comique." 
 '' La salle, " or the hall, appropriated to tlie pur- 
 pose, though small, is neat and prettily decorated. 
 Here I saw a pantomime in five acts ; the hero of 
 which was the renowned " Puss in Boots," oi- 
 ^' le Chat bott6," as he is called by the trench.
 
 LETTKR XIV. 131 
 
 Need I add, tliat I was completely ennnyL The 
 actors are really young beginners, or "jeuncs 
 artistes;" and I fear, from the promising ap- 
 pearance of three or four of the female per- 
 formers, (none of whose ages exceeded sixteen) 
 that this theatre is a nursei-y for other places, 
 besides the play-houses. '' 
 
 " Lc theatre du iMarals," I have not yet vi- 
 sited ; but I am told, that the building is elegant. 
 A detachment from the company, which I have 
 already mentioned as acting at " le th^itre de 
 jMoliere," performs at this house. 
 
 There aie likewise, " le th<iatre de la Gaiet^ 
 rue Thionville," '' le theatre des jeunes YAh- 
 ves, " et " le theatre sans Pretension," on th^ 
 Boulevard. I have not seen them ; but I liear 
 they are exactly on the same plan, and in the 
 same state as '• le thefitre de rAmbigu-comique.'^ 
 
 Besides these numerous play-houses, there are 
 several cxhil:il4ons of horsemanship, on the pian 
 of Astley ; and there is likewise a very curious 
 optical deception, called, " la Phantasmagoric de 
 Robertson." The latter is very well worth seeinor. 
 After viewing in the outward room various elec- 
 trical machines, mechanical inventions, and other 
 cunosities, you ar^ led into a daik apartment, in 
 v/hich the ghosts of distino-uilhed characters are 
 ^;upposed to appear. S^iis is extremely well ma- 
 naged ; and the principle of optical deceptions is 
 exemplified, and clearly explained. A man of 
 
 K 2
 
 13^ LETTER XIV. 
 
 the name of Fitzjames also appears as a ventri- 
 loquist ; and after he has thrown his voice into 
 different parts of the room, he declares, that the 
 power of doing so is not a natural gift, hut sim- 
 ply a habit acquired, of varying the sound of the 
 voice. The same man gives a most admirable 
 imitation of the meeting of a Jacobinical club; 
 and in hearing him, you really imagine, that the 
 demagogues of those bloody days are still ha- 
 ranguing with all the absurdity and madness, 
 which characterised them. In addition to the 
 amusements which I have specified, there are 
 innumerable puppet-shows, theatres de societe, 
 mountebanks, tumblers, fights of wild beasts, jug- 
 glers, rope-dancers, and quack-doctors. 
 
 Having given you this general sketch of the 
 spectacles of Paris, I shall, in my future letters, 
 only mention such particular performances, as 
 by their merit or their popularity, may deserve 
 your attention. ^«^ 
 
 I am, See,
 
 ( 133 ) 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 The play of Henri/ IV, read by le Texier. 
 
 Paris, february lo, l8oz (ai pluvlose). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT this evening to hear le Texier, so well 
 known in London, read la Partie de Chasse de 
 Henry IV. The reputation of the reader, and 
 the singularity of heing present at the recital of a 
 comedy in the french republic ; the fame of which 
 formerly depended on the attachment of the 
 people to the cause of monarchy, and particu- 
 larly to the house of Bourbon, drew an unusual 
 crowd, and I had great difficulty in obtaining ad- 
 mittance. " La salle," or hall of 'Me Brun," iti 
 the rue de Clery, in which subscription concerts 
 are usually performed, M'as the place appropriated 
 to this purpose; and though the room is ex- 
 tremely large, it was soon filled in every corner. 
 The benches were in a few minutes occupied, 
 and many persons were obliged to stand during 
 the whole performance. Le Texkr, to my great 
 astonishment, appeared much confused. Though 
 accustomed, for so many years, to appear before 
 the public, he had all the horrours of a young 
 beginner. I know not, whether his alarms arose 
 from the numerous audience which he saw col- 
 
 K 3
 
 13\ LETTER XV. 
 
 lected, from any apprehension he might entertain 
 as to an interruption from the police, or from 
 the criticisms which he expected from the french, 
 >^'ho, more conversant in the language, in which 
 he was about to read, than those to whom he 
 was used to address himself, might be less indul- 
 gent. From whatever cause his fears arose they 
 were very apparent. His hand trembled, the 
 sweat dropped from his brow, his voice faltered, 
 and in some scenes, he forgoi material passages. 
 It is unfair to pass any judgment on a person so 
 circumstanced, I shall therefore only observe, that 
 I saw with regret, that though much applauded, 
 he was but little admired. As to me, I have 
 often been so highly amused and delighted with 
 his readings in England, that I was more than 
 commonly disappointed. 
 
 " La Partie de Chasse de Henry IV" seems to 
 have lost none of its popularity ; for, notwith- 
 standing the vtry imperfect manner in which it 
 was read, the most unbounded applauses testified 
 the approbation of the audience, at the recital of 
 those passages, which were formiCrly in the mouths 
 of every one. A person unacquainted with Paris, 
 would have been apt to conclude, from v/hat passed 
 this evening, that the french were all royalists. 
 But it must be remembered, that, in the first 
 place, the greater part of those assembled on this 
 occasion, were drawn there by their particular 
 sentiments ;•■ secondly, that any thing new, n^
 
 LETTER XV. 135 
 
 « 
 
 Tivatter what, is sure to be well received ; and 
 lastly, that Henry the IVth, besides being the fa- 
 vourite of tlie ladies of all parties, vvas at the 
 beirinnino- of the revolution considered as a kind 
 of popular character, Avliom even the most violent 
 <len)ocrats held up to public admiration. lie 
 was likewise a military hero ; and, after all, there 
 is nothino- so much esteemed in France, as mar- 
 tial merit. Perhaps it was this part of his charac- 
 ter, which inchiced general IMoreau to attend the 
 reading of a pla}^, of which so renowned a warrior 
 was the subject. 
 
 This celebrated cjeneral sat in the "-allerv, with 
 a lad}' of considerable talents, in whose company 
 I afterwards supped. The lady in question en- 
 tertained the company, with a lively account of 
 the bo?i moia, brilliant thoughts, and happy ex- 
 pressions of her warlike companion; but as nia- 
 dame is particularly famed for the richness of 
 her fancy; and as, notwithstanding his decided 
 ancrit as a soldier, no one ever before heard of 
 the conversation talents of Moreau: it was uni- 
 v^^rsaily allowed, that the general Ayas not a little 
 indebted for his favourable testimony to the ima- 
 gination of hi^ fair reporter. 
 
 To return to /e Te.vier. His play concluded 
 without any interruption; and though the words 
 " vive le roi" were omitted, the song of " vivc 
 ]Ienry IV" was repeated and received with en- 
 thusiasm, by the audience. 
 
 K 4
 
 136 LETTER XV% 
 
 Adieu. How strange a nation are the freneli I 
 the more I see of them, the more I find it dith- 
 cult to discover their real sentiments. I am rather 
 inchned to think, that they have no decided poU- 
 tical opinions at all; and that their passions, the 
 fashion of the day, or the accidental humour of 
 the moment, make them at one time stern and 
 visionary republicans; then hot headed royalists ; 
 and at another, quiet, submissive, unreflecting 
 tools of the ruling power, whatever it may be. 
 But I must not allow myself to enter on such 
 topics : I therefore take my leave, and bid you^ 
 for the present, 
 
 Adieu.
 
 ( 137 ) 
 
 LETTER X\'I. 
 
 Party at afoitnnsseur'.s. — Ball at a ci-devant noble's. 
 
 Paris, febiuarj' the 15th, i8o4 (25 pluviose). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 RECEIVED an invitation to spend yesterday 
 evening at the house of an individual, who is 
 supposed to have made a very large fortune as a 
 ** fournisseur/' or army contractor ; and whose 
 wife is one of the " 61<jgantes" of the wtw set. 
 I send you, therefore, a faithful account, as de- 
 scriptive of that class of society, to which the 
 name of " Ics nouveaux riches" is given. 
 
 A handsome porte coch6re* led to a well 
 lighted and elegant stair case, by which we ap- 
 proached the salon ; where madamc. , and 
 
 some friends who had dined with her, were seated. 
 As, among the \ery few houses at which I visit 
 at Paris, the greater part are of " I'ancien 
 r<^gime," I have become so accustomed to dark 
 rooms, old furniture, and dismal hangings, that 
 I was quite astonished at the splendour of the 
 apartment, into which I was now ushered. An 
 elegant girandole of cut glass, made with the 
 greatest taste, and filled with innumerable wax 
 
 * Every large house in France is approached by a court 
 yard, the gate of which is called " la porte cochcrc."
 
 !38 LETTER XVI, 
 
 lights, gave such a lively appearance to the room, 
 that, for a few moments, I supposed myself in 
 London. The chairs were made with classical 
 propriety in antique shapes, and the colours 
 were well assorted. The carpet (a luxury not 
 often met with in this town) was of the finest 
 Brussels manufactory; and the walls were orna- 
 mented with designs on the plan of " Echart." 
 We were received v.'ith much politeness by the 
 lady of the house, who is a beautiful woman, 
 and who, whatever her original situation may 
 have been, is at present graceful in her manner, 
 highly accomplished, and \vell acquainted with 
 the literature of lier own country. 
 
 Monsieur was neither very handsome, nor 
 particularly brilliant; but he Mas very civil, and 
 took no little pride in showing us the suite of 
 rooms which adjoined to tlie salon, and which 
 were all, like the latter, splendidly lighted. 
 
 The apartment next to that in which we were 
 received, v/as covered with pictures representing 
 a nav-al engagement ; and the inscription under- 
 neath proved, that they had belonged to the 
 unfortunate Louis XVI. A large claw table 
 was placed in the centre of the room ; and our 
 host, though a good republican, forgot not to 
 inform us, that it had cost him a laige sum of 
 money; having been taken from the Thuilleries, 
 where it had long been in the use of Marie 
 Antoinette. Next to this was the bed-room.
 
 LETTER XV r, 13^ 
 
 which was parti cuhirly splendid. The canopy of 
 India mushn, so fine tliat it appeared hke a net, 
 to which wai added a rich embroidery of gold. 
 The stand of tiiis elegant coach was of ma- 
 hogany, ornamented with antiquefigures correctly 
 carved. The hohdoir, which adjoined, almost 
 exceeded in luxury that of madame ****, already 
 described in a former letter. The sofVi was of 
 crimson velvet, edged with silver; and the sides 
 and top of this little bijou were entirely covered 
 Avith the finest mirrors. Beyond the boudoir 
 w^s another bed-room, furnished in a diiferent 
 manner, but with ecjual taste and. eqnrl extrava- 
 gance. The party consisted of five or six ladies, 
 who were, j)erhaps, more expensively, than cor- 
 rectly dressed, of two of the ministers, and of 
 some foreiii-ners of distinction A musician of 
 eminence performed on tlie harpsichord ; and 
 accompanied madame **^'^ and one of her 
 friends, who both sung very prettily. 
 
 The evening -would have been pleasant, had 
 there not been a degree of form, which to me 
 was not a little annoving. About twelve o'clock 
 supper was announced ; which was served on 
 the ground iloor, in a small aa/lc a manger, 
 which was also elegantly furnished. The supper 
 was good, ami the servants who waited were 
 attentive. 
 
 I saw, this evening, for the fu'St time, general 
 Berthier. lie is a little man, plainly dressed,
 
 140 LETTER XVI. 
 
 with cropped hair. His countenance is expres- 
 sive, when he speaks; but his figure is diminu- 
 tive, and his appearance by no means mihtary. 
 Hers extremely polite, gentleman!}', and affable, 
 lam told, he is by birth '' gentil homme f' and 
 by his manner it is easy to see, that he must 
 have passed the early part of his life in good 
 company. 
 
 After giving you this account of a party at 
 one of the new houses, you will, perhaps, not 
 be displeased, if I conclude my letter with a 
 short description of a ball given by a person, 
 formerly of very high rank, and still of consider- 
 able fortune. 
 
 The antichamber, through which it is always 
 iiecessaiy to pass at a french assembly, is rather a 
 disgusting sight. The servants, differently occu- 
 pied, some playing cards, some sleeping, and 
 others criticising the dress of those who pass by 
 them, do not attempt to rise, and even those of 
 the house seldom give themselves the trouble of 
 moving, at the arrival of their master's guests. 
 \i the valet de ckamhre is near, the company 
 are announced; if otherwise, they are allowed 
 to find their way to the apartment of those M'honi 
 they are visiting. At the ball, of which I am 
 Tiow speaking, in addition to the antichamber 
 <ievoted to the use I have mentioned, the second 
 drawing room was filled with fi I its de chambre, 
 laillicers, and mantuamakers. whom the gooci
 
 LETTtR XVI. 141 
 
 liature of our hostess permitted to sit tliere, that 
 they might view the dancing, and learn t!ie 
 fashions. I observed, that several of these son- 
 brtttes did not direct their attention solely to the 
 Jemale part of the company. ^ 
 
 After passing through these rooms, we found 
 ourselves at last in the salon, which was ex- 
 tremely well lightetl with patent lamps. These are 
 much used at Paris, and almost generally substi- 
 tuted for wax. The oil used here is less offensive 
 than that which is bought in London ; and, Mhcu 
 a sufficient number of reflectors are placed about 
 a room (which is not very commonly the case) 
 it becomes very brilliant; but the heat is always 
 oppressive. 
 
 The company assembled on this occasion were 
 all of the old iwbksse ; and no nouveau riche^ 
 no person connected with the government, and 
 very few foreigners, Avere permitted to conta- 
 minate this (juhitesseficc of " bonne compagjiie.'''' 
 I perceived many of those faces which 1 had 
 remembered in London amou"- the e.mig;res of 
 distinction; and the lady of the house did not 
 forget to enumerate the families of dukes, C077iteSj 
 marquis, marechals, &c. which formed her so- 
 ciety. It is but justice to this class of company, 
 to observe, that the ladies (whether from a 
 natural sense of propriety, from habits con- 
 tracted during their residence in foreign coun- 
 tries, or from the wish of distinguishing them-
 
 142 LETTER XVI. 
 
 selves from their plebeian fellow citizens, I shall 
 not pretend to inquiie) are infinitely more correct 
 ill their dress, than those of an}- other set at 
 Paris. I saw here several elegant women, who 
 M'ere fiastefid, without being indecent; and though, 
 perhaps, a hundred persons were assembled 
 (which is considered a very large party in this 
 town) there was only one female present, of 
 whom it could be said, that she was too liberal 
 in the display of her charms; und she was the 
 subject of general coiivcrsation, and general 
 censure. 
 
 The ball began with two cotillons, or frencli 
 country dances, wliich M'ere very gracefully per- 
 formed by eight gentlemen and ladies, who vied 
 with each other in skill and activitv. The rest of 
 the company were seated on benches, which were 
 placed in gradations against the wall. A walse 
 was then played; about fifteen couple stood up; ' 
 and the gentlemen, placing their arms round the 
 waists of their partners, moved round the room 
 in a circle, Avhile the young men not so employed 
 formed a group, and filled the centre. The air 
 appropriate to this dance is extremely pretty, and 
 the figures of the ladies are seen to great advan- 
 tage. Yet, notwithstanding the quiet, respectfid 
 manner of the parisians, 1 must still continue of 
 the opinion of Werter; that no modest woman 
 ought to dance the walse, nnless her partner be 
 either her husband or her brother. 
 
 5
 
 LETTER XVI. 143 
 
 After a short interval, I perceived a string of 
 young men crowding togetlicr, and forming a 
 line. I learnt with surprise, that this was the 
 preparation for an engiish dance; and that the 
 gentlemen were taking places for their partners. 
 Though gallantry is, I suppose, the cause of this 
 mode of determining precedency, it is extremely 
 dangerous; and the ladies of Paris ought, like 
 our fair country women, to take the trouble of 
 arranging, themselves, so important a question. 
 One or two duels have already taken jilace, this 
 winter, owing to the disputes occasioned by the 
 zeal with which these " preux cheralicrs'' con- 
 tended for the honours of priority; and the evil 
 will daily increase, if this manner of taking 
 places be continued. 
 
 ^^'alse3 and cotillons succeeded alternately, for 
 the rest of the evening. About two o'clock in 
 the morning, supper was announced. The tablei 
 not being large enough to afford seats for all tUe 
 company, was solely occupied by the ladies. The 
 entertainment consisted of soups, hot dishes, 
 U'gumefi, fruit, and pastry ; after which, as a 
 remove, two large plates, one of turbot, and one 
 of salmon, made their appearance. Tliese, to ai> 
 engiish eye, seemed very singular ; but I hear, 
 all good french suppers conclude with fish. 
 
 After sup})cr, the ball recommenced, and con- 
 tinued till six in the morning. On sunmiing up 
 the occurrences of the evening, I remarked,
 
 144' LETTER XVr. 
 
 that, though the women were handsome, the 
 company elegant in their dress, and genteel in 
 their manner; though the music was admirable, 
 and the refreshments plentiful and good ; yet there 
 was something M'anting ; I mean that gaiety of 
 heart, and that flow of spirits, which, according 
 to all accounts, the french formerly possessed. 
 
 The ladies danced to perfection ; but they 
 seemed to do so rather for triumph than amuse- 
 ment; and any stranger, coming suddenly into 
 the room, would have supposed, that he saw be- 
 fore him the eicves of the opera house, not the 
 daughters of the proud noblesse. Dancing is, in- 
 deed, more a science than an entertainment, at 
 Paris; and while those who were engaged seemed 
 to study every step, and to make all their motions 
 "by rule, the by-standers looked on, and criticised 
 with the same professional attention. There was 
 little or no conversation : the loud laugh, involun- 
 tary tribute of joy, was not heard ; nor the innocent 
 prattle of unsuspecting, happy youth. I know 
 iiot whether this total chan<?-e of character is to 
 be attributed to the heavv misfortunes which the 
 higher classes have experienced, or to some other 
 cause ; but certainly nothing is more obsolete 
 than french vivacity. I have now passed more 
 than three months in Paris; and have not yet 
 seen among its inhabitants*, one instance of 
 
 • I speak only of the superiour orders. Among the com- 
 mon people, I have remarked some of that iivehuess t>o
 
 LETTER XVI. 145 
 
 unbounded mirth. When it happens to me to be 
 in enghsh, american, or other foreign companies, 
 I am always surprised at the fun and jollity of 
 the persons around me. 
 
 Before I conclude my letter, I ought, perhaps, 
 to mention, that I saw, at this party, the cele- 
 brated Kosciusco, whose heroic exertions in the 
 cause of polish liberty have rendered him so 
 justly celebrated. I am happy to say, that be is 
 perfectly recovered from his wound, and that he 
 has no longer any marks of lameness. He is not 
 now in the vigour or the bloom of youth ; but 
 his eye is finely expressive. I am sure, Lavater, 
 in seeing it, would have said, " That eye is the 
 eye of a poet, a genius, or a patriot." I had 
 not the pleasure of being introduced to him, and 
 can therefore only speak to you of his exterior. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 vaunted, as forming a materiul ingredient in the french cha- 
 racter.
 
 ( 146 ) 
 
 LETTER XVir. 
 
 A play acted for the first time, called " EdOuard en Ecosse/'tbe 
 hero of which was the english pretender, full of royalist 
 sentiments, performed twice, and highly applauded ; " God 
 save the King," played on the French stage ; plot of the play/ 
 which was forbidden on the third day. 
 
 Pahs, feb. 2i, i8oz (z ventose.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT three evenings ago to see the first re- 
 presentation of a new play, called " Edouard 
 en Ecosse*." The subject was of course the ar- 
 rival in the isle of Sky of the enghsh pretender, 
 and his escape thence. The applications which 
 were likely to be made to the present situation 
 of France, drew an immense crowd. I M^ent 
 early to " le theatre francois, " and was fortunate 
 enough to obtain a seat. If before the curtain 
 drew up I was struck with the singularity of my 
 situation as a british subject, about to see on the 
 stage of the French Republic a play founded on 
 such a topic, my surprise increased when the per- 
 formance began. I soon perceived that the whole 
 merit of the piece depended on the interest which 
 an unfortunate prince, banished from the throne 
 of his ancestors, was calculated to produce on the 
 minds of the audience ; and if such was the de- 
 sign of the author, he was more than commonly 
 
 * Edward in Scotland,
 
 LETTER XVII. 147 
 
 successful. The passages in favour of royalty, 
 and particular!}- those w hich expressed pity for 
 the proscribed, were applauded with inexpressible 
 warmth. The dialogue was well written, and so 
 artfully w^orded, that it was difficult for any man, 
 whatever his political sentiments might be, not 
 to join in commiserating the fate of Edward. 
 The story was simple, and as well as I can trace 
 it from memory, I will give it to you. 
 
 The young pretender, after being defeated by 
 his enemies, and abandoned bv his friends, takes 
 refuge, disguised as a peasant, in the isle of Sky. 
 Having passed three days without food, he is 
 driven by want into a house, the door of which 
 he finds open. Here exliausted with fatigue and 
 liunger, he falls asleep. In this situation he is 
 discovered by lady Athol, (the mistress of the 
 mansion) wife of the governor of the island, and 
 the particular favourite of king George. He 
 wakes, and, after an interesting dialogue, con- 
 fesses who he is. He then asks of lady Athol 
 *' a little bread for the son of him who once was 
 her sovereign." Long divided between the sen- 
 timents of humanity and those of duty and gra- 
 titude, lady Athol cannot resist this last pathetic 
 appeal, and having supplied him with some re- 
 freshment, she determines to protect him. In 
 the midst of this scene Arjivle, who is commis- 
 sioned by the british government to take the pre- 
 tender, arrives, and seeing Edward, expresses 
 
 r <>
 
 148 LETTER XVII. 
 
 some suspicion. To remove this, lady Athol, 
 ■with that presence of mind which women often 
 possess on such trying occasions, declares, that 
 the person he now sees in the dress of a peasant 
 is her husband, Lord Athol, (whom Argyle had 
 never seen) and who, having been shipwrecked, 
 was just arrived in this pitiful plight. Argyle 
 believes the story, and having paid his compli- 
 ments to the supposed governor, leaves him to 
 take that repose, of which he concludes he must 
 stand in need, after the accident which he had 
 experienced. 
 
 Edward afterwards appears in the dress of lord 
 Athol, and in that character is obliged to preside 
 at a supper, to which Argyle and some other 
 english oflicers had been previously invited. One 
 of the latter, a violent partisan and rough soldier, 
 proposes, as a toast, " death to all the enemies 
 of George." Edward, after a violent struggle, 
 throws down his glass, and rising from the table, 
 exclaims, '' I will not drink the death of any 
 man." 
 
 After this scene, which was rendered very inte- 
 resting to the English, by our " God save the 
 king" being played on the french stage, and to 
 the whole audience by the last phrase, which 
 was received \vith unbounded applause, the real 
 lord Athol arrives. In this dilemma the courage 
 of lady Athol does not desert her. She makes 
 signs to her husband, who discovers the trutli^
 
 LETTER XVit; 149 
 
 and recollecting that Edward had once saved his 
 life at Rome from the hand of an assassin, he de- 
 termines to rescue him from the danger of his pre- 
 sent situation. He accordingly pretends to con- 
 fess to Argyle, that in assuming the name of Athol, 
 he (Athol) had deceived him, and that lie is the 
 pretender after whom he is seeking. In this 
 character, therefore, Athol is arrested, and in the 
 mean time Edward, conducted bv the faithful 
 steward of lady Athol, makes his escape in a boat. 
 The whole then is disclosed, and on the arrival 
 of the duke of Cumberland, Athol is pardoned 
 for this pious fraud, the duke declaring that he 
 is convinced that the king himself, would, under 
 similar circumstances, have acted in the same 
 manner. 
 
 There is a find of counterplot or episode, in 
 which the celebrated miss Murray appears as the 
 sister of Athol, but her character is not materia) 
 to the general story of the play. Argyle, who is 
 in love with her, asks her of her Edward (while 
 he appears as Lord Athol) and tiiis puts him into 
 another dilemma, from which he is also saved by 
 the presence of mind of lady Athol. Mademoi- 
 selle Contat played lady Athol most admirablv, and 
 thepart of Edward was performed in a very interest- 
 ing and natural manner by St. Fall, who rose infi- 
 nitely above himself in the character assigned him. 
 
 From this imperfect account you will at least 
 be able to observe what occasions v/ere given both 
 
 L 3
 
 }50 LETTER XVII. 
 
 in the scenes and in the dialoo^ue, for such appli- 
 cations, as the friends of royalty took care to 
 make, and which were applauded with a degree 
 of ardour, which I never saw equalled either in 
 England or France. 
 
 What a strange people are the French? Do I 
 see the same nation who put Louis XVI to death, 
 and who liave, with such daring courage, opposed 
 the return of the house of Bourbon, shed tears at 
 a similar story, and enthusiastically support the 
 sentiments of this play, founded not only on an at- 
 tachment to monarchy, but on principles of in- 
 defeasible right ? Again, do I see the same peo- 
 ple, who a few years back permitted their best 
 and worthiest citizens, however guiltless, to fall 
 in crowds under the axe of the guillotine, and 
 at the nod of a contemptible petty tyrant; I say, 
 do I see the same people commiserate the suffer- 
 ings of an abdicated prince, and loudly applaud 
 a sentiment which justly declares, that to wish 
 the death of any one is a base, an unmanly, and 
 an unnatural action ? But I am going out of my 
 clement. I return to the play. It was received 
 with more and more admiration at every line, and 
 when the curtain at last dropped, the applause in- 
 creased, and continued for several minutes un- 
 interruptedly. 
 
 The author was called for, and proved to be 
 one of the actors of the house, who, as if in- 
 consistencies of all kinds were to be reconciled 
 on this occasion, was formerly a violent jacobin.
 
 LETTER XVir. 151 
 
 The play was acted a second night, with the 
 omission of " God save the kino- " and the sen- 
 timent about the toast; and to day it is at last 
 forbidden. 
 
 The royalists are excessively irritated at the 
 prohibition, but how was it possible to suffer in 
 a republic a performance, every word of which 
 expressed respect for royalty, and pity for a 
 proscribed family? 
 
 In England, where, thank God ! liberty is less 
 shackled than in this country, and where our 
 ideas of government are more fixed, should we 
 sutfei- on our stage a play which recommended 
 republican doctrines? The answer is plain. I 
 believe this is the right way of judging every ques- 
 tion. Viewing it in this lio'ht, I think, that if the 
 consuls had any fault, it was in suffering " Ed- 
 Mard" to be acted. In stopping it they have 
 only tlone their duty. 
 
 I atn, &c. 
 
 L 4
 
 ( 152 ) 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 The carnival. — Masks in all the streets. — Account of the difl'e- 
 rent characters, processions, ikc. — Masquer! ball at the 
 opefa house. 
 
 Paris, febniarythe a5th, i8oz (6 ventose). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 HE Streets of Paris have, since suiulay last, 
 exhibited a very sino-ular appearance to the eye 
 of an engHshman. The carnival is now begun; 
 and the people, being permitted by the present 
 government to return to all their old habits, are 
 celebrating this season of the year with that gayety, 
 whim, and eccentricity, which it has long been 
 a kind of religious duty, in cathohc countries, to 
 display on such occasions. From six in the morn- 
 ing till midnigiit, the principal streets are crowded 
 with masks of every description ; and while a 
 certain number are contented with exliibiting 
 their fun and their dresses on foot, others are 
 mounted on horses, attended by servants, also in 
 costume, and some are seated in carriages of 
 every description. In short, Paris has been one 
 continued scene of jubilee, audit is difficult to 
 pass through the princij^al avenues of the town, 
 on account of the vast crowds of singular figures, 
 who press forward on every side, and arresc the 
 attention of spectators. Harlequins, Columbines,
 
 LETTER XVIII. 153 
 
 beaux, al)bes, lawyers, and monks, present them- 
 selves every where; and while they circulate in de- 
 tached parties, niamalukcs, tiirks, and indian sa- 
 vages, correctly dressed, well mounted, and at- 
 tended with bands of music, move in numerous 
 bodies. These, and motley groups of masks of 
 all kinds, filling the inside, top, and every part 
 of hackney coaches, landaus, sociables, curricles, 
 cabriolets, and german waggons, form lengthened 
 processions on tiie Boulevard, in the rue St. 
 Jlonore, and in the neighbourhood of the Palais 
 royal ; while the latter, the Thuilleries, and 
 Champs Ely sees, are filled with pedestrian and 
 motley coloured wits, who, attacking each other 
 witli poissanl eloquence, amuse not a little the 
 surrounding iDultitude. 
 
 It is dithcuit to convey an idea of the show, 
 variety, and eccentricity of the dresses. In the 
 extraordinary processions, which I have already 
 mentioned, several handsome carriages were em- 
 ])loycd, drawn very frequently by four, sometimes 
 by six, and, in more instances than one, by eight 
 horses. Caricatures of all sorts wQie exhibited ; 
 and it was curious to see the cosiumes of friars, 
 nuns, iull dressed marquis, powdered abhts, and 
 mitred prelates, appearing as masquerade disguises 
 in those streets, where, twelve years before, the 
 same dresses excited the serious respect of every 
 one. 
 
 The people showed considerable fun in many 
 of the grotesque figures which they assumed ;
 
 354 LETTER XVI IT. 
 
 and I was particularly pleased with a fellow, who, 
 imitating our eug'lish print, was dressed as a 
 monk, and literally carried on his hack a young 
 girl enclosed in a truss of straw, with these words 
 written on his burden, " Provision pour le con- 
 A'cnt*." Besides innumerable Eves, beautiful 
 Venusses, and handsome leg2;ed damsels, dressed 
 as boys, TXiajia had many a fair representative, 
 clad in flesh coloured pantaloons, and gracefullv 
 perched on the edjre of a coach box, embracimr 
 with one arm a Hercules, and with the other an 
 Adonis. I think you will admire, as I did, the 
 admirable choice of such a dress, and such a 
 posture, for the goddess of Modesty. The moral 
 Conduct of each lady was, doubtless, not less ap- 
 propriate than her outward appearance to the cha- 
 racter M'hichshe assumed. 
 
 This amusement has already continued some 
 days, and will, I am told, last at least ten more. 
 It is difficult to ascertain how the body of the 
 people, who alone take part in these sports, can 
 support botli the loss of time, and the expense 
 "Which the dresses, carriages, &c. must necessarilv 
 occasion. It is indeed reported, that the govern- 
 ment pays the Mdiole cost, and that the principal 
 characters are hired to amuse the mob ,- but a re- 
 spectable gentleman, ^ho was intimately con- 
 nected with the minister of police under the old 
 
 * Provision for the convent.
 
 LETTER XVIII. J55 
 
 regime, assures me, that the same thing was said 
 at that time; and that nothing was more false, 
 though the masks were then as splendid and 
 as numerous as they are at present. I believe, 
 the truth is simply this, that the french are so 
 fond cf pleasure, of amusement, and ^spectacles 
 of all kinds, that there is no sacrifice which they 
 will not endure, in order to be able to indulge 
 this favourite passion. A parisian will dine for 
 six days on a sallad, that he may go on the 
 .seventh to a ball or a play ; and I have no doubt 
 that the emperors, caliphs, and janissaries, whom 
 I have seen to day in such oriental splendour^ 
 have many of them still, like good christians, be- 
 gun to mortify the flesh, even before the com- 
 mencement of Lent. This necessary sobriety, 
 united to the regulations of the police, which are 
 admirable, prevents any disorder or riots in the 
 streets ; and notwithstanding the swarms of idle 
 masqueraders, who wander at present about this 
 great city, I have not yet heard of a single acci- 
 dent, or of the slightest disturbance. 
 
 The carnival is celebrated in the same manner 
 by the higher classes in the evening; and there is 
 a masquerade every night at the opera house. I 
 went there yesterday, and observed more gayety 
 among the persons assembled, than I have yet 
 seen in France. The pit being joined to th<? 
 stage, gave a large space, which was entirely filled. 
 Ihc gentlemen do not usually wear masks, and
 
 156 LETTER XVIir. 
 
 their persons are only covered mth a domino. 
 It is one of the privileges of the ladies to conceal 
 their faces, and to attack, without being known, 
 the beau2' of their acquaintance. This custom 
 takes from the splendour of the masquerade, as 
 very few persons are fancifully dressed, and al- 
 most all are occupied in seeking adventures. 
 Kor M'as the conversation livelier than on such 
 occasions in England: the small number of in- 
 dividuals who pittended to assume characters,, 
 trusted to their dresses, rather than their wit, 
 for the support of their parts. There were " eng- 
 iish jockies," who had never heard of New- 
 market, and who could speak no language but 
 the french; haughty dons, who could not answer 
 a question in Spanish; actors, who could not re- 
 peat a single line either of Racine, Corneille, or 
 Voltaire; beys of Egypt, who knew not ihe course 
 of the Nile; grand signors, Avho heard, for the 
 first time, that wine was forbidden by the Koran; 
 and monks, who did not know to what order 
 they belonged. Yet, notwithstanding these little 
 defects, the evening was lively; and though there 
 was no form, there was no disturbance. 
 
 Whatever improprieties might have privately 
 taken place, no indecency shocked the pubhc 
 eye; no drunken persons made their appearance ; 
 no woman was insulted, and no quiet inoffensive 
 man dragged into a quarrel
 
 LETTER XVIII. 157 
 
 This is, indeed, the great and striking charac- 
 teristic of a public place in France, that it may 
 be visited in safety ; and if the parisian spectacles 
 are less amusing; than those of London, the former 
 have, at least, the negative merit of not exposing 
 those \\\\o frequent them to riot, rudeness, or in- 
 con vcnicnce. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 158 ) 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 Bonaparte's audience.---His address to the english gentlemen 
 presented to him. — Fh-st appearance, this season, of Vestris^ 
 .^Madaine de St I's concert. 
 
 Paris, march the 7th, i8oi, (16 veutose). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 SPENT yesterday a very busy and a very en- 
 tertaining day. On the 15th of every month, the 
 first consul, after the review (the ceremony of 
 which I have described in a former letter), gives 
 audience to the ambassadors and foreigners, in 
 other words, holds his court. As I was very 
 anxious to have an opportunity of seeing, in a 
 private room, and of speaking to Bonaparte, 
 who, whatever his political merits or faults may 
 be, is indisputably one of the most extraordinary 
 men whom the world ever produced, I requested 
 Mr. Jackson, the british minister, to do me the 
 favour of presenting me. My name having ac- 
 cordingly been sent in to the minister for foreign 
 affairs, i drove to the palace of the Thuilleries, 
 at three o'clock, where, in a small apartment on 
 the ground floor, called " la Salic des Ambassa- 
 deurs," the foreign ministers, and their respective 
 Countrymen, wait till the first consul is ready to 
 receive them. Chocolate, lemonade, sherbet, 
 and liqueurs, were served round in abundance 3 
 I
 
 LETTER XIX. ■ J 59 
 
 and, after an interval of nearly an hour, the 
 doors were thrown open, and we ascended the 
 great stairs of the palace, which were hned with 
 grenadiers, who stood with rested arms on 
 every step. In tlie anticliambcr there was an 
 ot^icer's guard, Avliich saluted us in passing; and 
 after going through four or five very large rooms, 
 in each of which there was on both sides a tile of 
 soldiers, we, at last, found ourselves in what 
 would he called, in England, the presence cham- 
 ber. Here, in a splendid salon, stood Bonaparte, 
 between Cambac^res, the second consul, and le 
 ]3run, the third. Thev were all three dressed in 
 their grand costume of scarlet velvet, richly em- 
 ])roidered with gold. The generals, senators, 
 and counsellors of state, who surrounded Bona- 
 parte, retired on our arrival, and a circle was 
 instantly formed, the foreigners of different na- 
 tions ranging themselves behind their respective 
 ministers. The imperial ambassador stood on 
 the right hand side of the first consul; next to 
 him was placed Mr. Jackson ; and on the left 
 I perceived count Luckesini, the pruffian mi- 
 nister, and the hereditary prince of Orange, whom 
 he presented this day. l\\ compliment to the 
 latter, Bonaparte, contrary to his usual practice, 
 began the audience on that side. He spoke for 
 some time to the son of the deposed Stadtholder, 
 and seemed anxious to render his situation (awk- 
 ward uud extraordinary as it was) as little painful
 
 l60 LtTTER XIX. 
 
 as possible; but I thought I could remark, in 
 the countenance of this respectable youn^ man, 
 a look \vhich proved that these efforts, though 
 well meant, were ineffectual. In passing; by each 
 foreio'ii minister, the first consul received the in- 
 dividuals of their respective nations with great 
 ease and dignity. When it came to Mr. Jack- 
 son's turn, sixteen english were presented ; and, 
 after Bonaparte had spoke to five or six of us, 
 he, said, with a smile, which is peculiarly his own, 
 and which changes a countenance, usually stern, 
 into one of great mildness, " Je suis charm6 de 
 voir tant dcs anglois ici. J'espere que notre 
 union sera de longue duree. Nous sommes les 
 deux nations les plus puissantes et les plus civil- 
 izees de TEurope. II faut nous unir pour cul- 
 tiver les arts, les sciences, les lettres, enfin pour 
 faire le bonheur de Fesp^ce humaine*." 
 
 Mr. Jackson made no reply, and, of course, 
 no one else could say any thing. The first consul 
 spoke to each individual with politeness, and in- 
 quired to what regiments those belonged who 
 were presented in uniform. He particularly dis- 
 tino-uished colonel Graham, ^ an officer of great 
 merit in our service, who, both in Italy and in 
 
 ' I am delighted to see here so many english. I hope our 
 union may be of long continuance. We are the two most 
 powerful and most civilized nations of Europe. We should unite 
 to cultivate t!]C arts, the iciences, and letters; in short, to.im-^ 
 Tti-ove the hapriincsj nf hnnuui nature.
 
 LETTER XIK. \6i 
 
 Syria, had been opposed to the arms of France^ 
 when commanded in person by Bonaparte. After 
 goino- round the circle, he spoke a second time 
 to this gentleman, and j)aid the same compliment 
 to the hereditary prince of Orange. The audience 
 then closed, and v/e descended with the same ce- 
 remonies as in coming in, to " la Salle des Ambas- 
 sadeurs, " wliere we waited for onr carriages. 
 
 The whole V," as conducted with, great dignity;, 
 and persons used to courts, all agree, that the; 
 audience of the first consul is one of the most 
 splendid things of the kind in Europe. The 
 pomp of military parade with which it is attended, 
 the beauty of the palace, the handsome uniforms 
 and commanding figures of the soldiery, the va- 
 rjety of regimentals worn by the ofticers of difte- 
 rent nations, the elegance of taste displayed by 
 some foreigners (for every one not in uniform is 
 in the full dress of the old court), the splendid 
 stars, ribands, and orders of others, and, above 
 all, the celebrity of Bonaparte, unite so many 
 circumstances in its favour, that you will not be 
 .surprised at a judgment, which, to a person M'ho 
 has not lately seen Paris, may seem extraordinary. 
 As to tlie first consul, he is as superiour in little 
 things as in great ones; and, had he been born a 
 sovereign, he could not possibly discharge this 
 part of his duty with more ease, dignity, and de- 
 corum. He is also very ready in finding subjects 
 of conversation, and opportunities of civility. 
 
 M
 
 169, LETTER XIX. 
 
 He gave yesterday a proof of this; which, thougli 
 I did not hear it myself, I shall venture to report 
 on the credit of a person on \vhom 1 can rely. 
 A prussian aid -de-camp being presented (wiiose 
 name I have forgotten), Bonaparte asked, "where 
 his gencH-al had last served?" The officer replied, 
 "in the campaign against France." — "I beg you 
 a thousand pardons," rejoined the consul ; " but 
 it is so contrar}' to the usual order of things {si 
 peu naturet) to see tlie prussians and french op- 
 posed to each other, that the circumstance had 
 entirely escaped me*. " 
 
 Before I conclude my account of the audience, 
 I ought ta mention, that it may be well called a 
 cowrt ; for it is attended not only wdth all tlie 
 requisites of show, parade, form, and etiquette, 
 but likewise by that flattery and cringing atten- 
 tion, which it was once the exclusive privilege of 
 royalty to receive. I saw the proudest nobles of 
 foreign courts, decorated with all the trappings 
 of chivalry, humbly bending the body, and anxi- 
 
 * When the present worthy and respectable minister from 
 the United States of America (Mr, Livingston was presented, 
 Bonaparte said to him, " Vous venez d'une republique libre 
 et vertuetise dans un monde de corruption."— (You come from 
 a free and virtuous republic into a world of corruption.) — Mr. 
 Livirtgston, who is rather deaf, and docs not peifectly un- 
 derstand french, did not immediately hear him. Bonaparte 
 ipstuntly; called to Ivl. Talleyrand, and desired him to explain, 
 in, englisia, what he had said.
 
 LETTER Xtx. 1^3 
 
 Oiisly courting the smile of that individual, whom, 
 a fe\v years, nav, a few months before, they would 
 have brandetl with the names of rebel, jacobin, 
 and usurper ; but tliC creed of courtiers is to 
 change with " existing circumstances," and tliose, 
 whose intrigues against Bonaparte were the most 
 active, are now his most obsequious sycophants. 
 But a truce to remarks which lead to politics. 
 
 The engli'di wlio were presented immediately 
 after the peace, were asked to dinner; but owing 
 to the greatness, I imagine, of our number, this 
 favour was not yesterday shown to us. I regret 
 much having missed the entertainment, as I am 
 told it was strikin£!;ly mao-nificent. 
 
 I went in the evening to see a spectacle, in- 
 finitely more interestino-, accordino- to french 
 ideas, though certainly not so according to mine. 
 I mean, the iirst appearance, this season, of 
 Vestris, and mademoiselle Chameroi. This was 
 at Paris a matter of great importance, and boxes 
 
 Mere engaged for weeks Ijefore hand. Mrs. 
 
 was fortunate enough to procure one ; and I 
 therefore saw the performance (Hccub(^, and 
 " le Ballet dc Paris,") to gieat advantage. 
 Vestris has certainly lost none of his n'.erit, and 
 deserves, as well as ever, that celebrity which 
 has long been his ; but I could not help being 
 disgusted at the thunder of applause which 
 greeted his appearance. It is impossible, in- 
 deed, to carry further tlie sublime art of dancing ;
 
 164 LETTER XIX. 
 
 but how contemptible is it to lavish the praised- 
 of a great nation on the exertions of mere bodily 
 skill ! li] as Dr. Johnson well observes, '' the 
 garlands due to the great benefactors of mankind 
 should not be suffered to fade upon the brow of 
 those who can boast only petty services and easy 
 virtues," much less should they ornament the 
 head of him, whose utmost claims on the gra- 
 titude of the public are the flexibility of his body, 
 or the grace of his steps. 
 
 Mademoiselle Chameroi, the tlh'e and fa- 
 vourite of Vestris, danced delightfully, and al- 
 most shared the popularity of her protector. 
 
 Bonapaite was present, and sat, for the first 
 time, in his state or open box. He was wel- 
 comed with warm and universal plaudits ; but I 
 blush to add, that they were not greater than 
 those which the " quick-footed" Vestris had al- 
 ready received. Is it possible that the parisians 
 reward, with the same honours, the services of 
 their great statesmen, and the exertions of their 
 favourite dancers ? 
 
 From the opera I went to a supper and con- 
 cert, given in honour of the prince of Orange, 
 
 at the celebrated madame de St I's. Her 
 
 house is one of the most agreeable in Paris, and 
 one of the few at which foreigners are received 
 with kindness and hospitality. I have not been 
 fortunate enough to form part of her dinner 
 societies ; but I am told, that they well deserve
 
 LETTER XIX. iSS 
 
 the credit of afford in r: " tlie feast of reason, and 
 the fl(A\- of wit.'' Her evening assemblies, at 
 several of Mhich I liave been present, are the 
 livehest and best conducted M'hich I have seen in 
 this town. 
 
 The most distinguished pubhc cliaracters, all 
 the foreigners of eminence, and most of the reign- 
 ing belles of Paris, are always met witli at her 
 house, iler parties, too, are so admirably ma- 
 naged, that every one does precisely what he 
 wishes; and a stranger is sure to be amused either 
 with excellent music, cards, or, what is better 
 than either, the conversation of the ladv of the 
 liouse. 
 
 Adieu. This letter is already so very long- 
 that I shall make no apology for an abrupt con- 
 clusion. 
 
 jtt 3
 
 ( 16^ ) 
 
 lettp:r XX. 
 
 The antic.hamber of the Musce Central, now filled with an 
 additional collscticn of fine pictures. — Account of the 
 wonderful recovery of some chefs-d'ceuvre. — List of pic- 
 tures in this room. 
 
 Paris, march the aoth, i803 (29 ventose.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT this morning to the picture gallery, (or 
 Mmee Central des Arts), and was very agree- 
 ably surprised at finding that the antichamber, 
 which, on niy first arrival at Paris, \vas filled 
 with a miserable modern exhibition, now contains 
 some of the chefs-tTmivre of the first masters. 
 
 These pictures, taken from 'Venice, Florence, 
 Turin, and Foligno, have lately been arranged 
 and deposited in tliis room. The advertisement 
 to the additional catalogue, published on the oc- 
 casion, acquaints us, that the persons entrusted 
 with the management of tlie Musee, anxious to 
 increase the pleasure of the public, and the im- 
 provement of tliC arts, had regularly exhibited, 
 as they received them, the pictures collected at 
 Bologna, Cento, Modena, Parma, Placenza, 
 Home, Venice, Florence, and Turin. But among 
 the number, there were some in such a state of 
 decay, that it v.as impossible to place them in 
 the Louvre, without incurring the almost certain 
 
 1
 
 LETT K II XX. 167 
 
 danger of tlielr destruction. The administrators, 
 therefore, very wisely determined to take every 
 possihle means of rescuing these sublime efforts 
 of the art of painting from that entire ruin, into 
 which they were rapidly falling. Their zeal and 
 their perseverance have been crowned with suc- 
 cess, infinitely greater than they could possibly 
 liave expected. 
 
 By a repoit made to the national institute by 
 Morveau, Tlticent, and Taunaij, it a})pcars, that 
 the celebrated picture of Raphael, called " la 
 Vierge au Donataire," or the Virgin with the 
 Donor, found at Foligno, \vas in such a state of 
 decay from the dampness of the place, where it 
 had long been deposited, that the persons em- 
 ployed by the french government, much doubted 
 the possibility of conveying it to Paris. After 
 having taken every precaution, which their ex- 
 perience coidd suggest, to prevent the danger 
 which they apprehended, they ordered the re- 
 moval ; but they felt, at the same time, that they 
 could not exhibit this masterpiece in France, till 
 thev had shifted the "'round from the wood on 
 which it was originally painted, and which had 
 become entirely rotten. 
 
 ** Le Martvre de St. Pierre le Dominican,"' or 
 the Martyrdom of St. Peter the Dominican, es- 
 teemed one of tlie chefs-d'ceuvrc of the art of 
 painting, and the finest work M'hich ever came 
 from the pencil of Titian, M-as also, when found 
 
 M 4
 
 168 LETTER XX. 
 
 in the churcli of St. John and St. Paul, at Venice, 
 painted on wood, and the pannel uncommonly 
 thick. Its Qjreat dimensions oblio;ed the commis- 
 sioners to order it to be transported by sea to 
 Marseilles. As the frigate, " la Favourite," on 
 board of which it was embarked, met with a 
 storm during the passage, the case which con- 
 tained it was exposed to the wet, and tlie hu" 
 ■jniditv found its wav to the picture. It was no 
 longer possible to discover its beauties; and the 
 only means left of saving the picture, was, by 
 removing it from the wood, and placing it on 
 cloth. This operation, as \\ ell as the former one, 
 rendered, in the latter case, still more difficult, 
 by the extraordinary size of the picture, was per- 
 formed by C. Hacijuin, with wonderful skill, 
 great talent, and singular success. The process, 
 Avhich was superintended Iw a committee of the 
 national institute, is given in the catalogue. 
 
 Both these superior specimens of painting are 
 uow restored to all their briliiancv, and to all 
 their original perfection ; and the principles on 
 which this transposition has been effected, are so 
 simple, that there is no longer an}- thing to dread 
 from similar acciden.ts. 
 
 The preface continues to state, that this new 
 exhibition unites the most esteemed productions 
 of the florentine, Venetian, and roman schools,. 
 Some from the palace of Pitti, at Florence, and 
 some from Turin. Specimens are presented of
 
 LETTER XX. I69 
 
 the M'Oiks of artists unknown in Paris, and per- 
 haps in many ]-)arts of Europe. Such are the 
 Hunters, by St. Jean de St. Jean; the Virgin, 
 the infant Jesus, and the infant St. John, by 
 Lorenzo Sabhat'uii ; and the Ecce Homo, of 
 Cigoli ; to which is added, a valuable picture of 
 various animals, by J. Weeninix, lately bought 
 bv ttie minister of the interior, at the sale of 
 yaillet and Coders, and united to the collection 
 of the Aluste Central, which, as the catalogue 
 well observes, will become the most magnificent 
 of Kurope, if acquisitions are thus made of those 
 productions, which are still wanting to complete 
 it. I shall conclude this account, by mentioning 
 the pictures of the celebrated masters. 
 
 PAUL VERONESE. 
 
 Jso. 44-. " Les Noces de Cauna," or the Marriage in 
 
 Caua, by Paul Veronese, is a large picture, 
 
 in which he hiis introduced all the dresses and 
 
 extraordinary characters of the age in which he 
 
 lived. It is one of the four cents, or feasts, and 
 
 was exhibited in the refectory of the monks of <SY. 
 
 George the great, at Venice. The artist received 
 
 fc;r this interesting picture only po ducats, or 
 
 075 lixres tounwis. — The second ccne is called 
 
 " le Rtjias," or the Repast at Simon's, and was 
 
 in the reiectory of the friars of St, Sebastian, at 
 
 Venice. It is ntnv in the Musk. — The third is 
 
 the Repast at Lni's, which forms the number 45 
 
 in this collection; and the fourth, in which Paul 
 
 Veronese paints our Saviour at the Pharisee's,
 
 170 LETTER XX. 
 
 has long been at VersaiHes, in the Salon d'llcr- 
 cule, having been given to Lewis XIV by the 
 republic of Venice. " Ainsi," says the cata- 
 logue, in the style of french gasconade, " graces 
 au genie de la Victoire, la publique aura bientot- 
 la jouissance de voir ces quatre raagnifique com- 
 positions reunis dans le Musee Central*." 
 No. 45. Is the Repast at Levi's, mentioned above. 
 
 46. Is the Virgin, St. Jerom, and other saints. — One 
 
 of his best pictures, taken from the convent of 
 St. Zacharia, at Venice. 
 
 47. The Martyrdom of St. George, taken from the prin- 
 
 cipal altar of the church of St. George, at Venice, 
 esteemed the finest work which Paul Veronese 
 left in his own country. The Musee has the 
 same work in little. 
 
 48. Jupiter thundering against Crimes. Taken from 
 
 the ducal palace at Venice, where it was placed 
 in the hall of the council of ten. The crimes 
 described in the picture are. Forger}', Exaction, 
 and Treason, which were the subjects specially 
 entrusted to this dreadful tribunal, whose judg- 
 ments were without appeal. Paul Veronese 
 executed this work after a journey to Rome. 
 He pretended to have copied, and connoisseurs 
 protend to discover, figures imitated from the 
 antique. 
 
 4^, Christ carrying his Cross. — This valuable picture 
 painted on wood, comes from the old collection 
 of the king? of I'rance. 
 
 50. The Crucifixion of our Saviour. — This also comes 
 from tiie royal collection. 
 
 * Thus, thanks to the genius of Victory, the public will soon have the plea- 
 fure of seeing these four magnificent compositions united in the Musee Centraly 
 or Central Museum,
 
 LETTER XX. 171 
 
 No, 51. The Pilgrims of Emmaus, taken from Versailles. 
 
 PORDENONE. 
 
 No. 54. St. Laurence, Justiniani, and other saints.^ Taken 
 from the church of Madona del Orto, at Venice. 
 Reckoned one of Pordenone's best works. His 
 name appears on it, written thus, " Joannes An- 
 toninus Portapanaensis." 
 
 RAPHAEL. 
 
 No. 55. " La Vierge au Donataire," or the Virgin with the 
 Donor. — 1 have before mentioned the wonder- 
 ful manner in whicli tliis picture has been re- 
 covered. 
 
 56. Jesus Christ, the Virgin, St. John, St. Paul, and 
 
 St. Catherine. — This picture, painted on wood, 
 comes from St, Paolo, at Parma. 
 
 57. The Portrait of Raphael and his Fencing-master, 
 
 taken by himself. Painted on cloth, and brought 
 from Versailles. 
 
 58. The VortrmtoiCount Bait IiasarCasfiglione. Painted 
 
 on cloth, and brought from Versailles, 
 50. The Portrait of Cardinal Inghirumi. Painted on 
 cloth. Taken from the palace of Pitti, at Flo- 
 rence. 
 60. Portrait of pope Julius II. Painted on wood. Also 
 from the palace of niti. 
 
 RUBSNS. 
 
 No. 6l. Grotius, Justus, Lipsius, Rubens, and his Brother, 
 A picture of the great painter, and his nearest 
 and most illustrious friends. 
 62. The carrying of the Cross.— This picture, painted 
 on cloth, comes from the abbey of Affinghani, 
 jicar Alost, in Holland.
 
 172 ' LETTER XX. 
 
 Ko. 63. Christ thundering against Heresy. Painted on cloth. 
 Taken from the church of the Jacobins, at An- 
 twerp. 
 64. The Assumption of the Virgin. Painted on cloth. 
 Taken from the church of the Cannes des Chaux, 
 at Brussels. 
 
 ANDREA SACCIII. 
 
 JJo. Go. St. Romuald. — This picture comes from the church 
 of tlie Camadulcs of St. Romuald, at Rome, where 
 it was placed above the principal altar. It was 
 long esteemed one of the four best pictures at 
 Jlome. 
 
 lALVATOR ROSjfe 
 
 Ko. 60. The Ghost of Samuel. — This picture, brought from 
 Versailles, is on cloth. 
 
 TINTORET. 
 
 ^o. 67. Saint Mark freeing a Slave. From the fraternity 
 of St. Marco, at Venice. One of the best pieces 
 of Tintoret, and one of the three to which he 
 affixed his name, in this manner, " Jacomo 
 Tnitor, F." 
 68. St. Agnes bringing to Life the Son of a Prefect, at 
 Rome. Taken from the church of la JSIadonu 
 del Orto, at Venice. 
 
 TITIAN. 
 
 >io. 60. The Martyrdom of St. Peter, the Dominican.— The 
 wonderful recovery of this precious picture I 
 have before mentioned. It is nov/ in high pre- 
 servation. The colours are rich, and the whole 
 perfect.
 
 LETTER XX. 175 
 
 No. 70. The Portrait of the Marquis del Guasto. — This pic- 
 ture is painted on cloth, and was in the old col- 
 lection, 
 
 71. The Virgin, the infant Jesus, St. John, and St. Agnes, 
 
 From the old collection. 
 
 72. The Holy Family, called the Virgin with the Rabbit. 
 
 From the old collection. 
 
 73. The Pilgrims of Emmaus. — This picture, painted on 
 
 cloth, was brought from Versailles. 
 71. Titian and his Mistress. — This valuable picture comes 
 
 from the old collection. 
 7"). The Picture of a man. From the old collection. 
 7'^ The Portrait of Cardinal liippofi/fus de Medici, in 
 
 a military dress. From the palace of Pitti. 
 
 TAN DYCK. 
 
 No. m. Francis de Moncade, Marquis d'Aytone, on cloth. 
 From the palace of prince Braschi, at Rome. 
 
 LK0NAR.3I DA VINCI. 
 
 No. 37. The Virgin and St. Ann, on wood. Fiona the old 
 collection. 
 
 GUERCINO (gIO TRANCESCO BARBIERI.) 
 
 Xo. 35. St. Petronelle. The chef-d'oeuvre of Guerchini, 
 Taken from the pontifical palace, at mount Ca- 
 vallo, at Rome, where it ornamented the chapel 
 called Pauline. 
 
 li. CARRACCI. 
 
 No. 19. The carrying away the Body of the Virgin. 
 
 20. The Apostles at the Sepulchre. — These two pictures 
 came from Placenza, wlierc they were seen ia
 
 I7i LETTER XX. 
 
 . , the cathedral. Painted in 16O8, \vhen Cy.rac( i 
 was far advanced in life. 
 
 " The Transfiguration," by Raphael, is undergoing 
 the same process as the pictures mentioned in 
 the beginning of this letter; and will, probably, 
 whej) this is finished, obtain all its former cele- 
 brity. 
 
 I make no apology for this long account ; for 
 knowing- your curiosity about paintings, and the 
 general taste for sucli subjects in England, 1 
 thought it an indispensible duty to give you the 
 full particulars of this new exhibition, which, 
 though on a smaller scale, is perhaps superiour, 
 in point of real merit, to the larger collection. 
 
 Adieu. The more I see of the Mus6e, the 
 more am I delighted. 1 often take advantage of 
 the hospitable privilege accorded to foreigners, 
 and come here on those days when the public 
 are not admitted. I have then the united ad- 
 vantages of looking on uninterrupted by the noise 
 of crowds, and of seeing the number of artists, of 
 both sexes, (some professional, and some ama- 
 teurs), who are busily employed in copying the 
 most esteemed productions. 
 
 I think it certain, that so favourable an oppor- 
 tunity will soon revive, in all its ancient splendour, 
 the art of painting, which, for some years back, 
 has been, undoubtedly, on the decline. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 ( 175 ) 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 liuis dc Boulogne. — Account of that promenade. — Order of 
 the police against english footmen wearing laced cocked 
 hats. — Cannon fired in honour of the definitive treaty. — ' 
 Illunjinations in the evening. — Little effect produced at 
 Paris by the peace. 
 
 Paris, march the 26th, 1802 (5 gemunal). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 VV E have liad for some days delightful weather ; 
 and the parisians have taken advantage of it ia 
 the best manner, by passing several hours in the 
 *^ bois de Boulogf/e," wliich answers in some re- 
 spects to our 113'de-park. From three till six 
 o'clock, the champs Elis^es, through which the 
 road runs, leading to this favourite spot, and all 
 the adjoining streets have been crowded every 
 day during this v/eek, with carriages of all de- 
 scriptions. Berlins, chariots, curricles, gigs, ca- 
 briolets, sociables, &c. These united to innu- 
 meral)le horsemen and pedestrians, make the 
 whole city assume a lively appearance. 
 
 The bois de Boulogne is about a mile and a 
 half from the place de la Concorde] and the 
 avenue and turnpike leading to it, form one of 
 the most sti iking entrances of Paris. The wood 
 itself was formerly very fme ; but in one of the 
 frantic moments of revolutionary violence, great
 
 i7S LETTER XXt. 
 
 part of tlie trees, were, by order of the then 
 government, cut down for fuel. It is however 
 still a very pleasant retreat ; and though the wood 
 is not so well g-^irnished as it once was, vet it is 
 singularly retired and romantic, for a spot so 
 near a capital. A gate leads to it, where, from 
 the crowds pressing forwards, it is often necessary 
 to wait before it is possible to pass. A string of 
 carriao-es fills the centre of the road, on the sides 
 of M^hich, gentlemen and ladies on horseback are 
 obliged to range themselves, as there is no sepa- 
 rate space for e(]uestrians. Under the trees, to 
 the right, it is the fashion to walk, or to sit on 
 chairs, which are placed there for the purpose; 
 while ice, oranges, flowers, fruit, and lemonade, 
 are offered by persons, who make it their busi- 
 ness to attend, and who are not a little importu- 
 nate. Here the belies of Paris appear in all 
 their eclat, not dressed in rustic ftraw hats, and 
 snow white morning gowns, such as our fair 
 countrv women wear in Kensington <>-ardens ; and 
 which, while thev are tiie emblem of their minds, 
 pure and sjmj)!e, are the most becoming orna- 
 ments they could assume. The ladies of Paris 
 disdain such humble attractions; and in showy 
 silks, embroidered muslins, pearl necklaces, lace 
 caps, and transparent petticoats, challenge the 
 attention of passengers. '' Les pommes d'al- 
 batre," as Voltaire describes them, are as little 
 disguised as at the balls, which I ha\'e mentioned ;
 
 LETTER XXr. 177 
 
 and ill-nature has a fair opportunity of determin- 
 ing by day light, whether they owe their fairness 
 to nature or to art. Clad in this manner, many 
 of them appear in open carriages, while others 
 lounge on the chairs, or loiter along the v/alk, 
 followed bv their booted beaiLV, who to eno'lish 
 leather breeches and boots, and cropped hair, 
 sometimes add a pair of earrings, or a smart 
 military cocked hat, when the sun shines in all 
 its meridian heat. 
 
 The mixture of english and french fashions is, 
 indeed, very curious at Paris; and whenever a 
 frenchman wishes to be completely ^ ranglalae, 
 he generally contrives to make himself ridiculous. 
 The equestrians sit on the necks of their horses, 
 and turn out their toes, by way of imitating our 
 manner of riding ; and the grooms who attend 
 them, M'hom they call " des jockes," are dressed 
 like our postilions; that is to say, in short waist- 
 coats, richly laced with gold and silver, with a 
 cap, ornamented in the same manner, and with- 
 out any coat. The horses, generally speaking, 
 are very bad, very ill trimmed, and worse mana- 
 ged. There are some handsome english carriages 
 already arrived, and the french coachmakers copy 
 our fashions as much as possible; but they are, 
 as yet, far behind. The common run of vehicles 
 is very indilferent. The handsomest equipage 
 from London, loses much of its elegance here, 
 from the slovenly manner in which it is sure to be 
 
 N
 
 178 LETTER XXT. 
 
 kept by a French coachman; from the tail of the 
 latter, uhich it is very ditficult to persuade him to 
 cut off; and from the shabby horses, usually fur- 
 nished bythejobmen. Apropos, a very ridicu- 
 lous circumstance occurred a few days ago. All 
 foreigners are permitted (notwithstanding the re- 
 publican prohibition to natives) to have arms on 
 their carriages, and to give their usual liveries: 
 of course, several of the english, allowed their 
 servants to wear gold laced cocked hats. Would 
 you believe it possible, that the government was 
 apprehensive of these hats being taken for the 
 badges, given to distinguish the constituted au- 
 thorities; and that, on this ground, they have 
 been forbidden by an express order of the police, 
 issued with proper solemnity? Such is the simple 
 truth. French generals, those renowned and dis- 
 tinguished warriors, are apprehensive of english 
 footmen being taken for them. What a strange 
 littleness in great minds. 
 
 ^'' Tanttene animis coelestibus ires?" I cannot 
 help exclaiming with lord Chesterfield, " alas, 
 poor human nature!" 
 
 I beg your pardon for this digression. I re- 
 turn to the bois de Boulogne; when the day is 
 fine, the provienade is very lively ; and the gro- 
 tesque figures produced by the unnatural union 
 of frcnch finery, and english simplicity, serve to 
 distinguish it from every thing else of the kind in 
 Europe. In returniiig from this motley scene, at
 
 LETTER XXI. 179 
 
 four o'clock to day, I heard the sound of cannon : 
 I learnt soon after, with inexpressible joy that 
 the news of the signature of the definitive treaty 
 was just arrived. Happy day, which gives peace 
 to all the world; may you long be remembered, 
 and may many, many years pass o\Tr, before you 
 have a successor! at six, the v.hole facade of 
 the Thuilleries, its garden, *' les Invalides, ' and 
 the hotel of the minister of marine, were all (as 
 if by magic), splendidly illuminated. It grieves 
 me to dild, that this important iiitelligt nee has 
 produced no effect at Paris. It has scarcely been 
 mentioned in society, and I have walked about, 
 the whole evening, admiring the taste with which 
 the public buildings were lighted ; and heartily 
 joining in the satisfaction which occasioned them, 
 without meeting one single group of french spec- 
 tators. Indifference is " the order of the day;*' 
 and I really believe, that no subject of any kind 
 could animate the parisians, or rouse them from 
 the stupid apathy, into Avhich they have fallen, 
 on tlie subject of politics. If " spectaHcs''' 
 have lost their attraction, it is in vain tt. try 
 any other method; for these are the " penates" 
 of the inhabitants of this great city. I hope 
 and trust, that the peace will be received in 
 England, in a very different manner. All good 
 men will unite in rejoicing at the termination of 
 a war, whicli, whether *'just and necessary," as 
 Some assert, or wantonly undertaken as others 
 
 V 2
 
 180 LETTER XXI. 
 
 represent, Nvas attended with such an iinnsual 
 waste of public money, private happiness, and 
 human blood. 
 
 I sincerely congratulate you, my dear sir, on 
 this, the happiest event, which England has known 
 for many years. 
 
 I remain, SiC.
 
 ( 181 ) 
 
 LETTER XXir. 
 
 The palais du Luxembourg. — TJudtre d'Odeon. — The pantheoH 
 or St. Genevieve. — Tombs of Rousseau and Voltaire. 
 
 Palis, april the ist, i8o2 (ii germinal). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT yesterday to see the palace of the 
 Luxemhourg, now appropriated to the use of tlie 
 conservative senate, originally the residence of 
 monsieu7\ the king's brother; and afterwards that 
 of the executive directory. The building is now 
 undergoing a thorough repair. It is therefore 
 impossible to judge of it properly, in its present 
 state. The grand facade, or front, remains un- 
 altered, and is strikingly magnificent. 1 viewed 
 it with particular pleasure; as the college at Ox- 
 ford, M'hcre I passed some of the happiest days of 
 my life, and to which I have still the honour of 
 belonging, was built after the model of this cele- 
 brated palace. This circumstance recalled so 
 many interesting remembrances, that I with diffi- 
 culty tore myself from the gates of the Luxem- 
 bourg. I am told, that the proposed alterations 
 are to be made on a great and extended scale; 
 and that every member of the senate, is to have 
 here, a distinct house, or spacious apartment. 
 The gardens are also to receive every possible ini- 
 
 N 3
 
 182 LETTER XXII. 
 
 provement. Several workmen were already en- 
 ployed in carrying this design into execution ; 
 but the whole is still too imperfect to give any 
 idea of what it may ultimately become. I saw 
 nothing but half formed gravel walks, formal 
 avenues of trees, and preparations for a round 
 basiu of standing water. The ground is indeed 
 too much surrounded with houses, even to make 
 what we should call in England, a fine garden. 
 
 The magnificent theatre, called, " le theatre 
 fran^ais de TOdcon," which formerly stood near 
 the Luxembourg, and which was one of the most 
 magnificent buildings of the kind in Europe, was, 
 a few years ago, entirely burnt doM'n, in the 
 course of eight and forty hours. Nothing re- 
 mains but the stone front, which the fire could 
 not destroy, and which still serves to ornament 
 this part of the town. 
 
 Being in the neighbourhood of St. Ghievibve, 
 now called, " the Pantheon," I ordered my coach- 
 man to drive there. 
 
 St. Genevieve appears nearly in the same state, 
 in which I saw it, eleven years since; that is to 
 say, quite unfinished. Though the interior is still 
 far from having attained that point of perfection, 
 proposed in the (;riginal plan, yet it is even in 
 its present situation, very beautiful. As to the 
 exterior, it is strikingly magnificent. Twenty- 
 two Corinthian pillars form the portico; eighteen 
 of them are 54 feet high. There is a cupola
 
 . LETTER XXII. 183 
 
 above, where it was intended to have placed a 
 figure of Fame, 28 feet high; but this plan has 
 never been carried into execution. At the ex- 
 tremity of this cupola, there is a gallery raised 
 I66french feet from the surface of the ground, 
 whence we enjoyed a most extensive view of 
 l^aris. This is the best point, from which the 
 town can be seen : and, as there is not here, as 
 in London, that kind of mist which arises from 
 coal fires, the view was uninterrupted. I clearly 
 distinguished from this spot, all the public build- 
 ings; and nearly every private liouse in Paris. 
 It is, in short, a kind of real panorama. The 
 ascent to the gallery is uncommonly easy, up a 
 flight of stone steps, well lighted, and kept in 
 such order, that 1 have not seen any stairs so 
 clean, since I have been an inhabitant of this 
 great city. The front, which has not suffered 
 at all, during the revolution, has the following 
 words written in laige letters, over the principal 
 porch. 
 
 " AUX GR^\NDS HOMMES, LA PATRIE RECONNOISSANTE ♦.» 
 
 From the scaffoldings erected in different parts 
 of the church, I was led to believe, that orders 
 had been given for the immediate completion of 
 the original plan. I therefore asked my con- 
 
 "* " The gratitude of the country dedicates this building to 
 the memory of great men." 
 
 N 4
 
 184 LETTER XXII. 
 
 ductor, when he supposed the whole would be 
 concluded. He shrugged up his shoulders, and 
 said, " il faut faire cette question au gouverne- 
 nient. Vraisemblablement Teglise sera achevee, 
 quand le gouvernement aura tant d'argent qu'il 
 ne saura pas en disposer autrement*." I am 
 afraid this is putting it off "■ sine die.''' 
 
 The dome and ornaments of the stairs are both 
 worked with a degree of nicety, elegance, and 
 care, wliich would be commended on a snuff-box; 
 and the whole building may be considered as a 
 specimen of good taste and masterly execution. 
 
 It will be remembered, that this was the spot 
 in which, at the beginning of the revolution, it 
 M'as proposed to confer immortality, (by burying in 
 its vaults) on such men, as by their talents, their 
 virtues, or their courage, had deserved well of 
 the republic. This idea, like many others, started 
 during the fervour of popular enthusiasm, though 
 splendid in theory, soon became very objection- 
 able in practice. The honours of sepulture in 
 the Pantheon, were contested for by the friends 
 of deceased public men, with the same eagerness 
 ^s they themselves had displayed duriiig their 
 lives, in the pursuit of the objects of their am- 
 bition; and as the merit which entitled an indi- 
 
 * You must ask that question of the government. The 
 church will probably be finished, when the government has 
 so much money, as not to know what to do with it other- 
 wise.
 
 LETTER xxir, 185 
 
 vidua! to tlie proposed reward, depended entirely on 
 the capricious estimate of tliose, who happened 
 to he in power, at the time of his death; the 
 most ilkistrious. and the most contemptible cha- 
 racters; the virtuous and the corrupt; the hero 
 and the coward ; the man of talents, and the ig- 
 norant iacohin ; the enlii^-htened friend of huma- 
 iiity, and tlie sanguinary decemvir, received in 
 their turn tl.e honours of the Pantheon. From 
 this strange abuse soon arose another, which, 
 though derived from a better motive, was equally 
 indecent. The l)ones of those, whom the suc- 
 cessful party condemned, were dragged from the 
 tomb, in wliich thev had been olaced with so 
 much pomp and parade, perhaps only a year be- 
 fore, and thrown, like the carcases of dogs, on a 
 neighbouring dunghill. Ashamed of having placed 
 the remains of tlie infamous ]\farat, near those of 
 Voltaire and Rousseau, the revohitionary dema- 
 gogues may plead some excuse for this strong, 
 but indecorous testimony of tardy rc])entance ; * 
 but the scholar, and the friend of genius will hear, 
 with regret, that the ashes of the eloquent Mira- 
 beau, who (whatever his political faults might be) 
 possessed no common talents, as an orator and a 
 writer, experienced a similar indignity. If his in- 
 tegrity was not sufficiency evident to entitle him 
 to a tomb among the benefactors of Ids country, 
 yet wlien it was once erected, his literary merits 
 ought to have saved it from destruction.
 
 ISS LETTER XXII. 
 
 To prevent a recurrence of circumstances so 
 little honourable to the french name, a decree 
 was at last past, for clearing away all the monu- 
 ments erectetl in the Pantheon, excepting those of 
 Voltaire and Rousseau. These I determined to 
 visit. We accordingly descended into the vaults, 
 which are neat, clean, well lighted, stone apart- 
 ments, where we found the tombs of these cele- 
 brated men. On that of Rousseau onlv the fol- 
 lowing words are written : 
 
 " Ici repose Thomme de la nature et de la verite*;" and a 
 hand with a torch rises from the tomb, with this inscription, 
 " il eclairit le monde meme du tombeauf ." 
 
 On the monument of Voltaire, the following epitaph is 
 written on one side. 
 
 " Aux manes de "Voltaire, 
 " L'Assemblee nationale 
 " A decretee le 30 mai, 1791> 
 " Qu'il avoit merite les honneurs 
 " Dus aux grandes hommesj." 
 
 On the second side. 
 
 " Poet, historien, philoscphe, 
 " II aggrandit I'esprit humain, 
 " Et I'apprit, qu'il devoit etre libre§." 
 
 * Here reposes the man of nature and of truth. 
 
 f He enlightens the world even from the tomb. 
 
 % To the manes of Voltaire, the national assembly passed a decree, on 
 the 30th of may, 1791, declaring, that he deserved the honours due to 
 the memory of g; eat men. 
 
 § Poet, historian, philosoi'her, he enlarged the human mind and taught 
 it, tliat it ought to be free.
 
 LETTER XXII. 18? 
 
 On the third side. 
 
 *' II defendit Galas, 
 *' Serven, 
 « De la Bane et Mont Bally*." 
 
 On the fourth side. 
 
 " 11 combattit les athees 
 
 " Et les fanatiques. 
 
 " II inspira la tolerance. 
 
 " 11 reclama les droits de rhomme, 
 
 " Centre le monstre de la feodaiite." 
 
 The bones of these distinguished men are in 
 the tombs, which I have described. Rousseaa 
 was removed from the garden of Ermenonvilie, 
 where his shade reposed in its favourite retreit, 
 under the auspices of friendship ; and the he .rt 
 of Voltaire, which had remained for some years, 
 as he desired, among those whom he loved at 
 Fernev. was dra^p-ed from its former resting dace 
 to this more splendid, but less tranquil sepulchre. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 * He dcfendetl Galas, Serven, 'le la Barre, and Mort Ballv. 
 f He combated atheists and fanatics. He preached tolerance. He vincS- 
 cateJ Che rights of man ag.unst th« monster Feudality.
 
 ( 188 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 Concordat with the Pope ratified by the legislative body 
 after an eloquent speech by Lucien Bonaparte. — Madame 
 Bonaparte's first drawing room. — Appearance of Dehayes 
 at the opera, after a long absence. 
 
 Paris, aprll the lOth, l803, (ao germinal.) 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 On thursday last, the legislative body, after a 
 speecli from Lucien Bonaparte, brother of the 
 consid ; who, as orator of the tribunate, very 
 eloquently defended this favourite measure of 
 government ; ratified and approved the concordat 
 witli the Pope, by a large majority. The re- 
 establishment of religion is therefore determined. 
 I was not present on the occasion ; but persons 
 capable of judging, assure me, that Lucien\s de- 
 livery was remarkably good; and that his speech 
 was the finest heard in France, since the time of 
 Mirabeau. As it will, of course, appear in the 
 Moniteur, I shall not attempt to copy any of 
 those imperfect statements which are, already, 
 handed about. 
 
 Madame Bonaparte held, the same day, for 
 the first time, a kind of court : that is to say, a 
 card, being previously sent round by the prefect 
 of the palace, who answers to our master of the 
 ceremoniesj saying, thatmadame Bonaparte would;^
 
 L2.TTER XXIII. 189 
 
 at three o'clock, receive the wives of foreign 
 ministers; and "des etrangers de marque, " such 
 ladies as wished to be presented, accompanied 
 their respective ambassadors, at the appointed 
 time, to the palace of the Thuilleries. As Mrs. 
 
 was of the number, you may depend on the 
 
 account, Avhich I shall now send you. The 
 ladies were not in hoops or lappets; but were, in 
 other respects, as much dressed as they would 
 have been at St. James's. They were received by 
 the wife of the ptr.fect du paiais, hi the apart- 
 ments appropriate to madame Bonaparte. Slie 
 and the first consul, soon after appeared. A 
 circle M-as then formed, and the consul walked 
 round. In passing, he spoke to each lady with 
 much politeness. Madame Bonaparte went through 
 the same ceremony ; and at last, seated herself, 
 desiring her guests to follow her example. She 
 talked again to those, who happened to be near 
 lier; and, after an interval of a few minutes, she 
 rose, courtesied, thanked the ladies for the honour 
 they had done her, and then retired. I under- 
 stood that she behaved with great propriety. Her 
 manners were simple, easy, and unaffected. She 
 was polite to every one; and particularly civil to 
 the englisli. Her apartments, on the ground 
 floor, looking on tlie Thuilleries, are not large; 
 but they are furnished with elegance, and con- 
 siderable taste. Her footmen were splendidly 
 dressed in green liveries, laced with gold; and
 
 1^0 LETTER XXIir. 
 
 they, as well as the '' valets de chambre," who 
 waited in the atitichamber, M'ere particularly civil, 
 respectful, and attentive. I'here were no foreign 
 men present, excepting the ambassadors, and the 
 prince of Orange; but it is understood, that she 
 will soon have a drawing-room, for the purpose of 
 receiving such strangers, as are desirous of being 
 introduced. 
 
 I shall conclude this letter, with a short ac- 
 count of the opera, from which I am just returned. 
 The house was unccmmonlv crowded, on account 
 of the first appearance this season, of the dancer 
 Dehayes. This favourite performer, having been 
 absent more than a year, in consequence of a fall, 
 which rendered him incapable, during that time, 
 of pursuing his profession, was received with 
 every possible honour. A ballet, called " le 
 Jletour de Zephyr*," was composed on the occa- 
 sion ; and the light and gentle Zephyr was wel- 
 comed with loud and repeated applauses. His 
 strength is not quite restored; but it is easy to 
 see, that he is no mean proficient in the art of 
 dancing. His steps are perfect, and perhaps not 
 inferior to those of Vestris ; but in point of grace, 
 the comparison is infinitely in favour of the 
 latter. 
 
 It is said, that Dehayes was convicted, during* 
 the time of Robespierre, of an attempt to emi- 
 
 * The return of Zeph3-r.
 
 LETTER XXlir. 191 
 
 grate to England. He was condemned to the 
 guillotine', but afterwards pardoned, on condi- 
 tion of dancing, during the whole of one season, 
 without fee or reward, before " le peuple souve- 
 rain." The agility, therefore, of a dancer, ob- 
 tained that mercy, which was refused to the in- 
 nocence of youth, to the gray hairs of age, to the 
 purity of virtue, to the charms of beauty, and to 
 , the dignity of talent. After this example of the 
 power it possesses, the art of dancing ought cer- 
 tainly to be ranked, in France, if not in other 
 countries, among the liberal and useful sciences. 
 
 T am, &c.
 
 ( 192 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 Vcrsailies.— St. Cloud. — 'Sevre. — Petit Trianon. — Specimen 
 of an extravagant bill. — Curious trial. — St. Germain. — - 
 Itlalmaison. — V/aterworks of JMarly. 
 
 Paris, april 13th, 1802 (24 germinal). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT yesterday, with a small party of english 
 friends, to Versailles, and am just returned. 
 I sit down now to give you the details of our 
 little excursion. 
 
 We stopped at St. Cloud, which is situate 
 about half way, to view that favourite palace of 
 the unfortunate Lewis XVI, which will Ion"- 
 be celebrated in history, on account of the ex- 
 traordinary meeting held there by the council of 
 five hundred, in the orangerie, or green house, 
 which ended in the establishment of the present 
 consular government. 
 
 St. Cloud is undergoing a thorough repair, 
 previously to its being inhabited by Bonaparte. 
 It is difficult, therefore, to form a proper estimate, 
 either of what it formerly was, or of what it may 
 become. I do not suppose it ever could have 
 been on a very large scale. The gallery, which 
 still remains, is a fine room, and the view is ex- 
 tensive from the large window, by which it is 
 terminated. The walls are ornamented with some
 
 LETTER XXIV. 193 
 
 excellent paintings (I believe) by " h Bran.'^ 
 The chapel is now in a slate of disorder, and I 
 did not examine the pictures which it contains. 
 The garden has been neglected, and can never 
 have been cither very extensive, or very beauti- 
 fid. Formal walks, and regular rows of trees, 
 constitute all its merit. As to the famous jtts 
 d'eau, or cascades, they are still in high preserva- 
 tion ; and the Parisians, On a particular day in 
 every year, come here, in splendid procession, to 
 enjoy this favourite sight. I only saw unmoved 
 stone dragons, Neptuncs, frogs, swans, and grif- 
 fons, from whose mouths tiiese artificial water- 
 falls are vomited. In this state, at least, ?ijet 
 iCeau forms but a disagreeable ornament in a 
 fiardcn, which ou^ht to unite every beauty of na- 
 tare, and to disdain every other. 
 
 The next object to St. Cloud, winch attracted 
 our attention, was the famous manufactory of 
 iShf^e. The beautiful porcelain, Avhicb bears 
 the name of ibis town, continues to be made here, 
 ynder the immediate protection ot the govern- 
 ment. We visited the shop, or magazin, and 
 were shown the several rooms of which it consists. 
 In all of these were tables, covered with speci- 
 mens of chiiia made here, but I cannot say that 
 they answered my expectation. They were neither 
 as various, nor as splendid, as one should suppose 
 they would be, at the principal depot of so re- 
 nowned a manulactory. Probal>ly, the situation 
 
 o
 
 I94 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 in which France has heen during the revohition, 
 did not aflford a sufficient number of purchasers, 
 to induce the managers to keep by them any con- 
 siderable quantity of expensive articles. There 
 were several busts of Bonaparte in different sizes, 
 all of which were strikingly resembling. There 
 were also gieat and small busts of Voltaire, 
 Franklin, and Rousseau. 
 
 Going thence to Versailles, we drove to 
 Rambrand's, wliich is esteemed the principal 
 hotel; but finding, on our arrival, that the best 
 i-ooms were engaged, we changed our plan, and 
 proceeded to Ic Petit Trianon in the park, which, 
 formerly the much loved retreat of IMarie An- 
 toinette, has, in the strange metamorphosis things 
 as well as men have experienced in France, be- 
 come a common inn. 
 
 Having* ordered dinner to be prepared in a 
 small room, once celebrated as the luxurious 
 boudoir of the ill fiited queen, we proceeded to 
 view the curiosities of Versailles. The park has 
 lost some trees, and has been neglected. In 
 other respects, it is not much altered. The 
 o?'angerie^' still retains, uni;r>paired, all its 
 
 * Orangeric. — The following d^srr'ption, given by la Fon- 
 taine of the same p ace iu his time, is exactly descriptive 
 of its present situation: 
 
 " Comnie nos gen< a-coient encore de loisir Us Jirent vn tour 
 ^ t'orangerie. La beaui: et h nombre dcs orangers ct des
 
 LETTER XXIV. 105 
 
 beauty. We walked through long avenues uf 
 orange trees, all of which are in high health and 
 rich foliage. The gardener assured us, that some 
 of those which were of vervlar^-e dimensions, had 
 been planted in the reign of Francis I. 
 
 We next visited the private library of the 
 former kings of France, situate in a separate 
 house in the town. There is nothing very par- 
 ticular in the building ; but there were, above the 
 several doors of the library, extremely pretty 
 paintings of the different capitals of Europe. 
 "We were here shown a very beautiful collectioa 
 of illuminated paintings, representing the splendid 
 ftUs and tournaments given by the magnificent 
 Lewis XIV. 
 
 Thence our guide wished to take us to 
 the national manufactory of fire arms, which is 
 carried on with great activity in this town; but 
 having seen many acknowledgedly superior works 
 of the same kind in England, we declined visiting 
 it, and proceeded at once to tl)c palace. This 
 superb building has not suffered at all during the 
 
 aulns planics qu'on y conserve fie sauroif exprmer. II y a 
 td de CCS arbres qui a resistc aux at tuques clc cent hixers." 
 
 " As our friends had still some lime to bj^are, they took 
 a turn in the erangcric, or green liouse. The beauty and 
 number of orange and other plants here preserved, ciannot be 
 described. There are, among these treers^ some which have 
 •■esistcd the attacks of a hundred winters." 
 
 La Fontaine, Amours de Psyche & de Cupidon. 
 
 02
 
 196 . LETTER XXIV. 
 
 revolution; though, from being neglected and 
 uninhabited, it has contracted a kind of gloom, 
 which forcibly recals the misfortunes of its last 
 possessors, and the uncertainty of human gran- 
 deur. The magnificent furniture, which the 
 apartments once contained, has been removed ; 
 but the walls are not without ornament, for the 
 palace having been made (probably with the view 
 of preserving it from popular violence) a mitsee 
 central, or depdt of the works of art, now pos- 
 sesses several valuable pictures, and a few ex- 
 cellent statues* Among the former, I remarked 
 some good Claude Loraines, and two beautiful 
 portraits by Vincent, The subject of one was 
 Henry IV of France; and the other, that of the 
 celebrated president, Mol^. The latter is painted 
 in his parliamentary robes, heroically exposing 
 his breast to the violence of the mob, and doing 
 his duty, unmoved by the poniards raised against 
 him. You seem to hear him exclaim, a:-> history 
 records he did, " La distance est grande de la main 
 d'un assassin au co^ur d'un honnctc homme*." 
 
 We walked tlirouoh the vast suite of rooms, 
 which, once the seat of gay ety, splendour, luxury, 
 and royal magnificence, are now the abode of 
 solitude, and the monument of fallen grandeur. 
 
 It is unnecessary to state the many reflections 
 whicli this spot created. We failed not to visit 
 
 * The distance is great from the hand of nn asaa&sin to th* 
 heart of an honest man*
 
 LETTER XXIV. 197 
 
 the apartment which the unfortunate Lewis XVI 
 occupied on the 6th of October, and in which 
 ^Marie Antoinette took refuo-e. We were also 
 shown the balcony window (now stopped up), 
 where that virtuous and ill fated princess, madame 
 Elizabeth, with a magnanimity truly heroic, pre- 
 sented herself, when the queen was called for, 
 and being taken for her, voluntarily subjected 
 herself to all the brutal violence of an irritated 
 mob. 
 
 We likewise saw the opera house, built for the 
 wedding of Lewis XVI, wdien dauphin, and 
 which, during the last reign, was sometimes used 
 as a theatre, and sometimes as a ball room. The 
 apartment is still perfect, but the scenes and de- 
 corations have been removed. 
 
 On leaving the palace, we visited several jets 
 d'eau ; but were prevented from viewing the gar- 
 den as particularly as we could have wished, a 
 violent shower of rai-a having overtaken us. 
 
 Tha waterworks and pleasure grounds appear 
 to have been much neglected 
 
 We dined at the Little Trianon^ and slept there. 
 The room, which fell to my share, was that which 
 the unhappy Lewis formerly occupied, and the 
 kev of the door had attached to it a label, on 
 which could still be discovered, though half ef- 
 faced, the words, ** appartement du roi*." 
 
 * The king's apartment. 
 o 3
 
 198 LETTEH XXIV. 
 
 In calling for our bill this morning, we found 
 that this little inn (ci-devant a royal residence) 
 had two proprietors, one of whom lets the apart- 
 ments, and the other supplies the table in the 
 character of " traiteur." With the charges of 
 the latter we had no fault to find ; but the demand 
 of the former was so ridiculously exorbitant, that 
 I have kept the bill as a curiosity, of which I add 
 the copy, 
 
 ^' Petit Trianon logement*. 
 
 Francs, 
 
 Trois appartemcns de maitre - 36 
 
 Uougie ------- - 6 
 
 Bois - - 9 
 
 Quatre lits de domestique - - 12 
 
 Total 63 
 By way of reconciling us to this extravagant 
 charge, the mistress of the house sent her daugh- 
 
 * Lodging account at the Little Trianon. 
 
 Francs. 
 Three masters' rooms - - - - - - 36' 
 
 Wax lights - - 6 
 
 Wood - -9 
 
 Four servants' beds ----r-rl? 
 
 Total 63 
 f N. B. Sixty-three francs of french money make exactly two 
 guineas and a half english ; and this sum was asked for on$ 
 night's lodging (without eating or wine) for three masters' beds 
 and four servants'.
 
 LETTER XXIV, 199 
 
 tcr to US, a very pretty girl, with tlic bill. Our 
 gallantry, however, did not subdue our reason, 
 and we determined to resist the demand. Our 
 hostess having indignantly refused the half, which 
 
 we offered as amply sufficient, Mr. and I 
 
 proceeded to Versailles, in pursuit of a jugc dc 
 pair. After being sent to tvs'O or three justices, 
 Av'ho told us, that it was not within their jurisdic- 
 tion, we at last, in a miserable lodging, and at 
 an obscure house, found tlie magistrate of the 
 division. liis (hess and his appearance were not 
 superiour to his residence, and from these united 
 circumstances, we were far from expecting that 
 justice wliich, in the result, we experienced. 
 
 Having heard our case, he granted a citation, 
 requiring the attendance of the landlord ; and, of 
 course, suspended his decision till the arrival of 
 tlic other party. While our servant, who carried 
 the summons, went to execute it, we were pre- 
 sent at a curious trial, tlie subject of which was a 
 small quantity, I believe a (piart, of vinegar. The 
 defendant was a coarse masculine woman, at least 
 sixty years of nge, who, when she had exliausted 
 all her i'und of eloquence, burst into tears, and 
 talked of the weak unprotected state of an un- 
 happy A\iduv,'. The plaintiff was a dirty ill look- 
 ing fellow, with a witness of no better appearance. 
 They all talked together; and the justice, instead 
 of being able to nuKlerate their violence, found 
 jt difficult to gain a hearing himself. After a, 
 
 o 4
 
 » 200 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 wrangle of an hour, and after swearing and 
 counterswearing to the same fact, they went away, 
 ■without the business being finally settled. 
 
 What entertained me much, was, that these 
 disputants, in the middle of their liarangues, 
 turned round to my friend and me, and seemed 
 anxious, each in his turn, to convince us, by 
 their eloquence, of the justice of their respective 
 cases; though we were not only strangers to the 
 business, but also to the laws on which this im^ 
 p07^ta77t question v/as to be decided. 
 
 Wiien our oood landladv arrived, her bill M-as 
 produced; and the justice having declared how 
 exorbitant he thought it, she justified herself on 
 three grounds. 
 
 1st. That we had not made a previous agrecr 
 ment; and ergo, that she had a right to demand 
 whatever she pleased. 
 
 2dlv. That she liaid-a s^reat rent "a la na- 
 tiou*';" and that, therefore, ^^ la nation' ought to 
 permit her to make her guests pay a great rent for 
 their lodQ:ino;s. 
 
 3dly. That *' V amhassadeur de {cmperciir 
 Rus6e'\,'' having lodged at her house only a 
 M'etk before, and not having objected to a charge 
 of tv/o louis per bed, " Ics milords anglais''' 
 ought to think her present demand extremely 
 reasonable. 
 
 * To the nation. 
 j- Tlie ambassadorfof the tmperor of Russia. 
 I
 
 LETTER XXIV. £01 
 
 Notwithstandinj^ this verv able defence, the 
 justice told her, that the law -would not allow her 
 d'tnorcfier ks L'trangers^] and xQvy equitably de- 
 creed, tliat we should pay 36 instead of 63jrancs, 
 Madame received, verv indiy:nantlv, the sum al- 
 lotted her, and went away in a rage, declaring 
 that, in future, no person should sleep at Ic 
 petit Trianon, who would not bind himself be- 
 fore hand to pay the price which "son excellence 
 Fambassadeur de toutes les Hussies"' thought so 
 reasonable. 
 
 So concluded our trial, which I have detailed 
 as characteristic of what is to be expected at inns 
 in France, if prior arrangements be not made by 
 travellers; and likewise as an honourable proof, 
 that justice, though not clad in ermine, is fairly 
 administered. In sioino; away, I was not a little 
 surprised to fmd, that there v.cre no costs to 
 pay, and that even the sununons had been issued 
 gratlirtously. 
 
 In England, where we possess so admirable- a 
 system of laws, how much are its advantages di- 
 minished, by the expenses attendant on every 
 process! for, as a distinguished public man once 
 M'ell observed, though the temple of justice be 
 open to all, it is like the London tavern, only 
 the favourites of fortune dare approach its 
 threshold. 
 
 * To fleece slranircrs.
 
 202 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 In returning to our inn, we passed by the 
 royal stables, which are still kept up, and tilled 
 ^vith horses. These are now appropriated to the 
 use oF the officers of the army, M'ho come here 
 to be instructed in the menage, and who employ, 
 for this purpose, the quondam riding school of 
 the king. The horses appeared, at least to an 
 english eye, A-ery indifferent. We also saw here 
 some arabians, lately arrived from Egypt. They 
 are extreniely plain, lanky, and awkward ; but 
 the groom assured us, on being asked if they were 
 swift, " Oui, monsieur, connne les oiseaux." 
 (" Yes, sir, as swift as birds.") It was in vain 
 to object to outward form, when we learnt that 
 these animals had the talent of flying. If, ac- 
 cording to the old jockey jihrase, '' no good horse 
 ran have a bad colour/' certainly no horse who 
 flies can be n2:lv. 
 
 Before we left Versailles, we ^'isitcd the garden 
 of ie petit Trianon, which is rented by our 
 jionest landlady, and Vvhich may be seen, by 
 jKivina: a small sum for a ticket at the q-ate. It 
 IS kept in tolerable order, and has still strong 
 marks of that good taste, with which it was ori- 
 ixinally made. It is really, and not nominally, 
 an english garden; and M'ould, even in our happy 
 island, be deemed as prettily laid out, as the 
 smallness of its extent would permit. 
 
 The little theatre, built by the queen, situate 
 within the precincts of these grounds, is still \\\
 
 LETTER XXIV. 203 
 
 •existence, and has suffered no loss, excepting 
 that of the beautiful glasses with which the boxes 
 Avere once splendidly illuminated. The last ob- 
 ject, to which we were led at Versailles, was " le 
 grand Trianon," that favourite spot of Lewis XVI. 
 This elegant building is also unhurt; and the fine 
 marble pillars, which form the entrance, excited 
 all our admiration. The poverty, into which the 
 inhabitants of the town have fallen, in conse- 
 quence of the revolution, is strikingly apparent. 
 In every corner, we were surrounded by half- 
 starved and half-naked beggars, whose import 
 tunities were not a little troublesome. 
 
 In returning to Paris, we took the road of St 
 Germain. The old castle still remains; but its 
 outwaid appearance was so gloomy, that we felt 
 no inclination to visit the interiour. If the french 
 monarch intended to pay a compliment to the 
 pretender, in giving him a palace as nearly as 
 possible resembling St. James's, liis choice 
 was admirable. The view frojn the terrace is 
 pretty, but by no means either as extensive, nor 
 as ricli, as I expected from its celebrity. 
 
 In continuing our road, we saw the celebrated 
 ^vatcrworks of Marly, which are preserved in all 
 their ])erfection. We likewise passed by the fa- 
 mous aqueduct, and by Malmahon, the private 
 seat of the first consul. The latter has nothing 
 very particular to distinguish it. It is simply a 
 ipodcrate sized house, situate near the river, but so
 
 204 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 Jow, that it cannot command a very extensive 
 prospect. I bear, the grounds are M'ell laid out, 
 and that the furniture of the house unites every 
 thing which taste could order, or luxury afford. 
 We reached Paris about six o'clock; and my first -> 
 employment, after dinner, has been to write you'^ 
 this account, as I know that Versailles, and its 
 neighbourhood, are among the number of ob- 
 jects, about wliicli english curiosity is excited. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 I
 
 ( ^os ) 
 
 LETTER XXy. 
 
 Lo/!g Champ, account of that annual pronjenadc, date of 
 its origin, and of the great preparations made this year for 
 attending it. — The bustle and gayety wliich it produced at 
 Paris. 
 
 Paris, spril the i6th, i8oj, (27 germinal), 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 xVLL Paris has been alive for the last three 
 tiays. 'Can you guess the reason? Perhaps you 
 will imagine, that the inhabitants, roused from the 
 state of lethargy, into which thc}' have for some time 
 back been plunged, are beginning to give sincere 
 but tardy marks of joy, at the reestablishment of 
 internal order, and external peace. Not at all, 
 my good friend. A subject, much more interest- 
 ing to the Parisians, is. the cause of the show and 
 gayety so generally exhibited. Know, then, that 
 ''^ Long Cliamjy' has begun! I must now, like 
 other learned commentators, explain my expla- 
 nation. 
 
 " Long Champ" is the name of a village, 
 situate on the other side of the '' Bois de Bou- 
 logne," of which latter place I spoke to you in a 
 former letter. In this village stood an abbey, or 
 church; and one of the holy fathers, some hun- 
 tlred years ago, had a voice of such extraordinary
 
 QOS LETT £11 XXV. 
 
 sweetness, that, when hig-li mass was performet^, 
 crowds of Parisians flocked to hear him. Hi? 
 popularity was not confined to the lower class, 
 and the noblesse shared the curiosity of the 
 public. The fashion of going to Long Champ 
 so rapidly increased, lliat, in a short time, it was 
 no uncommon thing to see whole strings of splen- 
 did carriaircs at the door of the convent. The 
 road to this village became the favourite ride, 
 and vanity soon discovered, that it afforded an 
 excellent opportunity of displaying all the va- 
 rieties of dress, and all the pomp of equipage. 
 In the course of a few years, ic became an csta^ 
 blished custom, at this particular period of the 
 year, to make, during three days, not an humble 
 pilgrimage, but a splendid procession, to Long 
 Champ. Tlie mass and the singer were sooii 
 forgotten ; but the promenade continued, ancf 
 increased every year in the magnificence of pa* 
 rade. To appear, on this occasion, with becom- 
 ing grandeur, the haughty, but often distressed 
 noble, would, for months beforehand, deprive 
 himself of his ordinary comforts. To rival " les 
 
 si 
 
 dames de bonne compagnie*" in richness of 
 dress, in show of equipage, and blaze of dia- 
 monds, was the grand objec: of the admired 
 hdles of \X\t opera house; and the means of 
 
 * " Ladies of good company," or, as ^t should say in eng" 
 lish, women of character. :
 
 LETTER XXV. 207 
 
 doing so, was the exacted price of those smiles, 
 which the well beneficed prelate, or the wealthy 
 financier, were sometimes permitted to enjoy. 
 The Bourgeois and tiieir wives appeared in their 
 humble cabriolets', but the former More their 
 Sunday apparel; and the latter were loaded with 
 all the tinsel fmcry, which, during the course of 
 the year, they had been able to collect. The 
 common })cople, or la canaille (as they were 
 then indignantly called), were e(}ually fond of 
 this procession; and, at the risk of being run 
 over, crowded and completed the show, some 
 dressed in tattered regimentals, some in faded 
 silk coats, and ragged embroidered waistcoats, 
 and others with bag- wigs and wooden shoes. 
 
 Such was the custom during " Fancien regime." 
 The amusements of the french vanished with 
 their old political institutions, and " horrendum 
 dictu," Long Champ was long unobserved. 
 
 Robespierre, and after [un\ the directors, for- 
 bade every thing which bore the least resemblance 
 to the customs of former times; but when Bona- 
 parte came into power, tlie system was instantl}^ 
 changed, and the people, left to follow their own 
 ioelinations, greedily returned to all iheir former 
 diversions. " Long Champ" was of rlie number; 
 and, since the 18th of })rumaire, it has been srra- 
 fluallv recovering: its ancient maQ-nificcnce. This 
 year, from the reestablishmcnt of peace, and the
 
 SOS LETTEK XJCV. 
 
 confluence of foreig-ners, it was expected to be 
 finer than ever ; and vast preparations liave, 
 during some weeks past, been making. jMil- 
 liners tortured their fancy to invent new fashions; 
 niantuamakers passed v.-hole nir^'hts without sleep, 
 in executing tlje orders which they had received; 
 coachmakers exerted themselves witii all the art 
 of their trade, and all the vanity of their country, 
 in endeavourino- to imitate the carria"'es of the 
 engilsh; horses were sent for from every part 
 of the world; regiments of tailors were employed 
 in making coats tor the beaux, habits fot the 
 ladies, and laced jackets for their grooms; strings 
 of boots were seen dandling- on the backs of 
 porters in e\'ery quarter of the town; saddles 
 M'ere as much in recjuisition, as if a great military 
 project, by tlie means of cavalry, had been in 
 agitation; and I ha\c been confidently assured, 
 that no less than three thousand pair of leather 
 breeches were ordered on the occasion. 
 
 In consequence of these active preparations, 
 and of " Long Cliamp" having been, for some 
 weeks back, intinitely more the subject of con- 
 versation than eitlier the peace, or the reesta* 
 blishment of religion, I expected, at least, a very 
 brilliant sight. I nmbt say, I was disappointed. 
 The only thing which pleased me very much, was 
 the bustle which it produced in the town, and the 
 gayety w'ith v/hich it animated the Hices of the 
 Parisians. For three davs, everv vehicle iu ths
 
 LETTER XXV. £09 
 
 shape of a carriage, and every animal which 
 claimed tlie name of horse, has been dragged 
 into use, and become part of the procession. 
 About two o'clock, a military guard was posted 
 at the beginning of the Champs Elisees, to pre- 
 serve order, (for nothing here is done without 
 soldiers) ; and from that hour, till some time 
 after sunset, the crowd gradually increased. At 
 three, the line of carriages reached from " la 
 place de la Concorde" lo the *' Bois de Boulogne;" 
 and, of course, there were frequent stoppages, 
 even at the beginning of the promenack. The 
 road not employed in this manner, was filled with 
 equestrians of all ranks, and the walk on both 
 sides was equally thronged with passengers on 
 foot. There were some few elegant english equi- 
 pages, well appointed, and others spoiled, by the 
 shabby appearance of the servants, or the ex- 
 treme badness of the horses. The french coach- 
 makers, in one or two instances, successfullv imi- 
 tated the fadiions of London ; but, generally 
 speaking, the attempt only served to prove the 
 vast distance which exists, between the two coun- 
 tries, in the art of constructing carriages. 
 
 Mixed with *' les voitures a I'anglaise, ou 
 'vtritabkment afiglaisea*''' were seen old fashion- 
 ed bcrlins, faudly coaches, and supcrannu- 
 
 * Carriages in the english fashion,, or carriages really 
 english. 
 
 P
 
 210 LETTER XXV. 
 
 atecl cabriolets of all descriptions. Phaetons, 
 gigs, curricles, and whiskies, completed the pro- 
 cession. Among the horsemen were seen a few 
 returned emigrants, who had so well copied the 
 dress of our young men of ion, that they might 
 have been mistaken for the beaux of Bond 
 street ; but the greater number {ma/gre their 
 leather breeches and boots, their blue frocks and 
 liigh crowned hats) betrayed the forgery, by the 
 preposterous addition of ear-rings, coloured capes, 
 or pointed toes. The ladies appeared in every 
 variety of clothing. Some, who ventured to be 
 their own charioteers, assumed the neat and ap- 
 propriate dress of an " amazone," or habit. 
 Others, decorating, and concealing as little as 
 possible, the charms of their person, shone in all 
 the brilliance of their evening apparel. Worked 
 gowns, laced c:aps, and showy turbans, were 
 sometimes exhibited from the windows of hack- 
 ney coaches ; and a dirty buggy had, not unfre- 
 quently, the honour of conveying three or four 
 damsels, v,hose costume would not have been 
 iinsuited to the first heroine of the stage. It is 
 impossible to describe, or convey, the faintest 
 idea of the grotesque figures which a)3peared on 
 this occasion ; and, notwithstanding the trouble 
 and expense to which so many individuals had 
 exposed themselves, by the purchase of new car- 
 riages, new liveries, new horses, new dresses, 
 and last, not least, new leather breeches, the 
 
 5
 
 LETTER XXV. 211 
 
 whole appeared to me but a shabby exhibition, 
 q^id dull amusement. 
 
 Moving, in sIonv procession, to the other side 
 of the Bois ile Boulogne, during five or six 
 hours, constituted the M'hole pleasure of this 
 vaunted /ete. Tliere were certainly some elegant 
 carriages, and some handsome horses ; but the 
 number was too inconsiderable to make amends 
 for the crowd of those of a contrary description. 
 Nothing could be more tiresome than sitting in 
 one of these vehicles, as they were compelled, 
 every instant, to stop, on account of the length- 
 ened line, which increased every moment. Per- 
 sons on horseback were equally ill off, as it re- 
 quired the utmost care to avoid being driven 
 against the wheels of the carriages ; and as for 
 the pedestrians, they were almost buried in a 
 volley of dust. 
 
 Such is the celebrated promenade of Long 
 Champ, which, though an annual festival, ap- 
 pears to me a wretched and pitiful imitation of 
 Hyde park on an ordinary Sunday. Yet the 
 french are delighted with their amn-^cmcnt; and 
 in returning this evening, I hear(^on every side, 
 " Quel beau spectacle ! quelles jolies voitures ! 
 quels magnifiques chevaux ! quelle belle parure ! 
 Vraiment cest charmant* !" 
 
 * What a fine sight ! what pretty carriages ! what beautiful 
 hyrses ! what elqgar.t dresses ! Really it is charming i 
 
 P 2
 
 212 LETTER XXV. 
 
 It Is not a little flatterins: to the vanity of an 
 englishman, to see how rapidly the french are 
 adopting our fashions ; and, notwithstanding the 
 awkward manner in which they are sometimes 
 copied, yet such is the general bias, that I enter- 
 tain no doubt that, in the space of ten years, 
 (if the peace should last so long), it will become 
 almost impossible to distinguish, by his dress, a 
 native of France from one of England. 
 
 The ladies of Paris, and those of London, 
 differ, indeed, very widely in their toilet. Per- 
 haps they might reciprocally improve by observ- 
 ing each other ; and while the former would do 
 right to respect and imitate the modesty, with 
 which the latter are usually clad, our fair country- 
 women might also, without any injury to their 
 beauty, or any violation of that delicacy, which is 
 their brightest ornament, adopt some of that taste, 
 eleq-ance, and fancy, which are often seen in the 
 dress of a well bred frenchwoman. 
 
 Adieu, Tuy dear sir. I am heartily tired of my 
 subject, and fear you will have been so some time. 
 I therefore take my leave for the present. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 ( 213 ) 
 
 I 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 iTc D^UTM sung at Notre Dame, in honour of the peace and 
 the reestablishment of rehgion. — ■\Iilitaiy insolence. — 
 ■ Account of the ceremony. — Illuminations in the evening. 
 — Indifference of the people. 
 
 Paris, april the :8th, i8o2, Easter Sunday (a8 germinal.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 O (lay will probably be long remembered in 
 the annals of France, on account of the promul- 
 gation of the law for f" /' e/ablissement des 
 cidtes') the reestablishment of religion ; on 
 account of the definitive treaty of peace v/ith 
 England, the ratifications of M'hich were ex- 
 changed this morning at the Thuilleries ; and of 
 the " Te Deum" sung at Notre Dame, in honour 
 of these united events. 
 
 I wished very much to be present at a cere- 
 mony, which was rendered so particularly inter- 
 estino- bv the number of curious concurring 
 circumstances, too obvious to be detailed. Hav- 
 ing no ticket, I went to the church at si>: o'clock 
 in the morning, hojnng to make my way, among 
 the crowd, into those places, which were not 
 appropriated to the constituted authorities. The 
 doors were not open ; and about a hundred 
 persons, who were already arrived, stood enclosed 
 in a kind of barrier, which seemed to have bcca
 
 214 LETTER XXVr. 
 
 put up for the purpose of preventing too 
 great a press at the first opening of the gates. I 
 placed myself against this bar, and hoped to gain 
 admittance in the second division. I was soon 
 followed and surrounded by a consklerable crowd; 
 and, after we had all remained about two hours 
 in this uncomfortable state, a detachment of sol- 
 diers arrived, and attempted instantly to clear a 
 passage. We were already so squeezed together, 
 that it was impossible to make room for the mili- 
 tary, without either losing our places, or incur- 
 ring the danger of suffocation. When the sol- 
 diers perceived that, notwithstanding the blows 
 which they dealt around them M'ithout ceremony, 
 the people did not immediately make way, 
 they lost all patience ; and, not content with 
 fixing their bayonets, called out for a detachment 
 of horse. The brandishin"- of the one, and the 
 fear of the other, soon dispersed the mob ; but 
 not till some had been wpi^nded, and several scr 
 verely bruised. 
 
 I could not help reflecting, with §ome degree 
 of indignation, on this singular scene. In Eng- 
 land, under a monarchical form of government, 
 the military are not allowed to interfere, but in 
 cases of positive danger, or actual insurrection ; 
 and even then under the orders of a civil magis- 
 trate. In France, where the system is called 
 " republican," and every man supposed to con- 
 stitute a part of the sovereignty, the body of the
 
 LETTER X?CVr. 215 
 
 people, coniifig quietly to see the first solemn ser- 
 vice of that religion, which is said to be restored 
 in compliance with their wishes, are dris'en with 
 blows and military violence from tlie doors of 
 tliat church, in which peace, liberty, equality, 
 and good order, are about to be celtbrated. Per- 
 haps, indeed, it may be urged, that this was only 
 a necessar}' precaution of the police, and that the 
 object of the guard was to prevent that riot and 
 danger to M'hich the public, not so protected, 
 M'ould have been exposed. The answer is plain. 
 If it was thought necessary to maintain order by 
 the assistance of the military power, the sentinels 
 ought to have been placed the preceding night, 
 or at the dawn of morninu;. It Mas addinsr insult 
 to cruelty, to permit the people to assemble, and 
 after the loss of several hours, aud the endurance 
 of great fatigue, to dismiss them in the manner X 
 have described. 
 
 It is needless for me to say, that I soon relin- 
 quished all hope of getting into the church, and 
 thought myself happy in being able to make my 
 escape unhurt from the claws of these heroes. 
 
 In going away, I perceived at the window of 
 an adjoining hospital, nearly opposite the church, 
 some ladies of my acquaintance, who were so 
 obliging as to oifer me a place near them, from 
 ^vhich I might see the procession. 
 
 I had scarcely taken this situation, when a 
 ticket for one of the privileged places in the 
 
 p 4
 
 216 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 church M'as given me by a person, who was un- 
 willing to risk the difficulties, with which the 
 approach to the doors seemed attended. After 
 being sent about to different gates, I at last 
 found admittance at one. AVhen I reached the 
 gallery, it was so completely full, that I found 
 myself compelled to take refuge in the orchestra. 
 From this situation I was again driven by the sol- 
 diers ; and in despair I returned to the gallery, 
 where, standing on the back of a tottering chair, 
 and with at least twenty rows of spectators before 
 me, 1 caught, not without some danger, a very 
 imperfect glimpse of this splendid ceremony. 
 
 What I did not see myself, I shall relate on 
 the authority of persons, who were more fortu- 
 nately situate, and on whose accuracy I know I 
 can depend. 
 
 The procession began with a numerous escort 
 of different regiments. Among these were par- 
 ticularly remarked " les guides," a corps of 
 handsome young men, clad in hussar dresses, 
 and mounted on beautiful horses, who excited 
 universal admiration. Next to them came the 
 ^^ gens d^ amies,'' ox ^''regiment (T elites,'" lately 
 raised. They are men of a very respectable ap- 
 pearance, in blue uniforms, faced with yellow, 
 whence long epaulets are suspended. These, as 
 well as the buttons, are of silver, as is the lace 
 of their hats. Their horses are black. The con- 
 sular guards, and several regiments of the line,
 
 LETTER XXVr. ' 217 
 
 completed the niilitaiy cavulcafle. The ministers 
 of state, and the "corps diplomatique," came 
 next, and formed a long line of carriages. Those 
 of the latter were drawn eacli hy four horses, and 
 ornamented with all the escutcheons of heraldic 
 pomp. Tiiose of the former were without arniS ; 
 but thev had all six horses, and their servants, 
 dressed alike, wore splendid liveries, now put on 
 for the first time, of yellow, gold, and red. A 
 small corps of Mamalakes in their egyptiaa 
 costume, some of whom led unmounted arabians, 
 and a i^^w aides-dc-canip, immediately preceded 
 the carriage, in whicii sat Bonaparte, accom- 
 panied by the other two consuls. His coach, 
 new on the occasion, Mas simply elegant, and 
 drawn by eight very fme horses richly capaii* 
 soned. His servants appeared in green coau 
 and red waistcoats, on all the seams of which 
 were rows of broad gold lace. The consuls were 
 received at the door of the church bv the arch- 
 bishop of Paris, who placed over their head a 
 dais (or canopy). 
 
 Bonaparte, with Cambacerrs on his riglit, and 
 le Bnin on his left hand, ^\as conducted in this 
 manner to a throne erected near the altar, under 
 Avhich their three chairs were placed. A similar 
 throne appeared opposite, in which sat the car- 
 dinal legate. 
 
 The bishops ."bowed iirst to the altar, secondly 
 to the consul^, and lastly to the cardinal. This
 
 218 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 was remarked by the public ; as, under the mo- 
 narchy, tlie jepresentative of the pope was per- 
 iTiittcd to receive this homage before the sovereign 
 of the country. 
 
 The oath settled by the concordat having been 
 taken by the clergy, high mass was instantly said. 
 
 At the conclusion of this ceremony, M. de 
 BoisgeUn, formerly archbishop of Aix, lately 
 named archbishop of Thoulouse, ascended the 
 pulpit, and delivered a discourse appropriate to 
 the occasion. I regretted much, that the dis- 
 tance at which I was placed was so great, that 
 it was impossible for me to hear the vene- 
 rable preacher, who excited no little curiosity, 
 from the singularity of his situation. He is the 
 same man, who, at the '^ sacre,'' or coronation, 
 of Lewis XVI, preached in the same pulpit, 
 before tliat unfortunate monarch. His sermon 
 will, no doubt, be published in the " moniteur," 
 where you will have an opportunity of seeing it. 
 
 It was the custom formerly on these occasions, 
 forthe bishop, in beginning his discourse, to address 
 himself to the king. A similar form was observed 
 to day, and the expression of '■"sire" was ex- 
 changed for that of ** citoyen premier consul.'" 
 After the sermon, **Te Deum" was chanted. All 
 the band of the opera house was employed, and 
 Lais and madame Bolla supplied the vocal parts. 
 The effect was fine, yet, comparatively, very 
 inferiour to our musical meetings in Westminster
 
 LETTER XXVI. 21^ 
 
 abbey. I heard some connomcurs object to tlie 
 air, as not sutBcicntly grave or dignified for tiie 
 subject which it was intended to celebrate. As I 
 am totally ignorant of music, I can form no 
 judgment as to the justice of the criticism. 
 
 The church was immensely full. The aisle was 
 filled with the military, the diiterent uniforms of 
 which had a splendid effect. Beliind the consuls 
 sat the ambassadors, the ministers, and the 
 generals. In a box above, at the entrance of 
 the chapel, was placed madame Bonaparte, ac- 
 companied by her daughter and some other 
 ladies. On the other side M'as a similar box, 
 appropriate to the use of the ladies of the " corps 
 diplomatique." 
 
 The two galleries or choirs, which surround 
 the church, were divided into an orchestra for 
 the music, seats for the different constituted 
 authorities, and places for sucli individuals 
 as were favoured with tickets. In the latter were 
 of course seen all the persons at Paris most dis- 
 tinguished for situation, talent, or beauty. The 
 coup (Tceil altogether was very striking. The 
 procession returned with the same ceremony as 
 that in which it arrived; and all the streets of 
 Paris were lined with spectators. 
 
 A discharge of sixty cannon was heard at the 
 departure of the first consul from the Thuilleries; 
 and his arrival at the church, and his ix'turn to 
 the palace, were announced in the same manner.
 
 2.20 LETTER XXV [. 
 
 In "the. evening, the palace was splendidly illu- 
 minated. Every division of the arches forming 
 the front towards the garden was covered with 
 lamps, and a Instre of lights was suspended from 
 each. The garden itself was prettily, hut less 
 brilliantly, decorated, than on theyc^e in honour 
 of the preliminaries. 
 
 All the public buildings and offices were also 
 lighted; but the only illumination at all remark- 
 able, beside those which I have named, was 
 that of My. Jackson, his majesty's envoy extra- 
 ordinary. The gates of " I'hotel de Caramon," 
 where he lodges, were entirely covered with 
 lamps of different colours; the effect of which 
 was much admired, as at Paris that mode of 
 decorating their rejoicings is unknown. On the 
 right hand were the letters R. F. (Republique 
 Francaise); and on the left, G. R. (Georgius 
 Rex). 
 
 I forgot to mention that Bonaparte was much 
 applauded by the populace, in going to Notre 
 Dame; and that madame received the same com- 
 pliment, though she went there without any pa- 
 rade, in a plain handsome carriage, and seemed 
 to decline, rather than to court, the notice of 
 tlie public. 
 
 During the illuminations there was no noise, 
 and, indeed, no expression of joy. Very ft\v 
 people were seen in the Thuilleries, though the 
 weather was fine, and the day sundav. The
 
 LETTER XXVr. 221 
 
 more I see of the frcncb, the more am I asto- 
 nished and disgusted at the indifterence which 
 they have contracted. Their dullness is the more 
 disagreeable, from it's being unnatural ; and I 
 cannot help exclaiming, every hour, with Vol- 
 taire, 
 
 Queje plains uii fran9ois, quand il est sans gaiete; 
 Loin de son element le pauvre liomme est jette*. 
 
 Adieu. 
 
 How I pity the frenchman, whose gayety's lost; 
 The creature's a wretch, from his element toss'd.
 
 ( 222 ) 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 Falah dc Justice. — Account of the different tribunals or 
 courts of law. 
 
 Paris, aprilthe 30th, i?02, (10 fiorcal.) 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 1 WENT this morning- to the '' Palais de Jus- 
 tice,*' in order to visit the different tribunals. 
 The ^'facade," or front, of this building lias a 
 commanding- appearance. A handsome iron rail- 
 ing, with tliree gates, forms its barrier ; after 
 passing through whicli, you ascend a lofty flight 
 of stone steps. The avenues to the principal 
 hall are fdled with shops of various descriptions, 
 and particularly those of booksellers. The hall, 
 or central room, which is of considerable extent, 
 forms a kind of antichambcr to the different 
 coiu'ts. I went into one of the " tribunals de 
 prt-mier instance," in each of which tliree judges 
 preside. They wear long bands, and black coats, 
 from which is suspended a cloke or gown of 
 black silk. The advocates plead in a sort of bar -^ 
 but, excepting being dressed in black, have no 
 distinguishing badge, or professional decoration. 
 The judges had a grave appearance; and, though 
 they did not seem to be men of much import- 
 ance, conducted themselves with decency and,
 
 LETTER XXVII. 223 
 
 propriety. I was present while some causes 
 were argued ; but they were not of sufficient 
 consequence to enable me to form any estimate 
 of the talents of the advocates, now called, in 
 the general change of name, '* des d^fenseurs 
 officiaux*." As to their outward garb, it was 
 not prepossessing ; and, if it were not unjust to 
 form any conclusion from mere exteriors, I 
 should say, that a french counsel and an english 
 one appear to be drawn from a very different 
 class of society. I next saw a court, which, 
 under the title of "tribunal de la police correc- 
 tionelle," is charged with the investigation and 
 punishment of petty oftences. I here heard the 
 trial of a man charged with pawning, for his own 
 use, some goods belonging to a shoj), in which 
 he was employed as a workman. The witnesses 
 were reu'ularlv examined ; after which the criminal 
 was very patiently heard in his defence. As he 
 had nothing to urge but his poverty and the 
 charges of a large family, he was found guilty 
 by the judges, (for I observed no jury) and was 
 sentenced, though an old offender, to only six 
 months imprisonment. This trial having satis- 
 fied my curiosity about *' la police correc- 
 tionelle, " I next visited the chief or supreme 
 court of the republic, Avhich is called " le tri- 
 bunal de cassation." Here evcrv thins: bore a 
 
 * Onicial defenders.
 
 224 LETTER XXVIT. 
 
 more dignified appearance. Tlie room was lofty, 
 the seats elevated, and the judges (whose number 
 was considerable) seemed, by their dress, their 
 manner, and their language, to be well suited to 
 the important functions of their office. They 
 wore black and red gowns, with coclied hats, the 
 Gords of which were of gold lace. Nothing can 
 be more respectable than the exterior of this 
 court; of the proceedings of which I could form 
 no idea, as the judges were employed in reading 
 papers relating to mere matters of form. I 
 imagine, that this is the tribunal intended, ia 
 some respects, to replace the parliament of Paris. 
 The magistrates, as far as I could form an 
 opinion from this cui'sory visit, seem men of 
 education, learning, and polished manners. 
 
 Before I left the Palais cle Justice, I looked 
 in at the criminal court of the " department ck 
 Seine" A culprit was reading a long written 
 defence, which I had not the patience to hear 
 concluded. The room was handsome, and the 
 proceedings orderly and correct. I saw her'e 
 nothing like a jury ; yet 1 am told, that all 
 capital offences are tried by that mode of pro- 
 cess. An italian was a few days a^'o tr'ied in 
 this court, and convicted of assassination. I 
 regret much, that I was not pi-esent at the 
 trial. I dill not hear of the circumstance till 
 to day. He yesterday undcrM-ent the punish- 
 
 I
 
 LETTKR XXVI r. 225 
 
 ment of the guillotine, being led to the scaffold 
 in a red shirt, this dis2:race beino^ added to the 
 sentence in cases of murder, I ousfht to men- 
 tion, in honour of the present criminal laws of 
 France, that this is the first individual, who has 
 been condemned to death, during the six months 
 which I have passed at Paris. 
 
 Underneath the " Palais de Justice" is situ- 
 ate that fatal prison, called " la Conciergerie" 
 It was here that the sanguinary Robespierre 
 immured the daily victims of his wild and unre- 
 lenting tyranny; who awaited, within its dismal 
 walls, the signal of death, under the insulting 
 and degraded name of trial. It was here, that 
 rank, beauty, age, philosophy, virtue, and pa- 
 triotism, took the places of vice; and, in the 
 caverns destined to receive the blackest perpe- 
 trators of hideous crimes, were hurled, among 
 multitudes of other innocent and di<»-nified cha- 
 racters, the learned Condurcct, the ingenious 
 Lavoisier, the respectable Afadamc Roland, the 
 venerable Maleshcrhes, and the lovely, coura- 
 geous, and once haughty queen of France. 
 ^Vhcn I have been forced to make such 
 painful reflections, in viewing the different ob- 
 jects which present themselves at Paris, I have 
 alwavs found some consolation in lookin«f round 
 me, and seeing how completely that system of 
 suspicion, bloodshed, and injustice, has passed 
 awav. Those horrors, so disij^raceful to France,
 
 226 LETTER XXVII, 
 
 took place in a moineiit of na'ioiial dpllriiim Tif 
 I may be permitted the expression) ; and the 
 inhabitants of Pans, who committed, or rather 
 suffered, the scenes of judicial murder, which 
 every day contaminated the streets of the capital, 
 now, restored to their senses, are the first to 
 deplore and execrate them. I am persuaded, 
 that crimes like these can never again find their 
 AVay into tlie polished metropolis of this great, 
 brave, and ingenious people. 
 - With this Iiope I shall conclude my letter — a 
 hope, in A^-hich I am certain that you will warmly 
 and cordially unite. 
 
 I am, ^^c.
 
 ( 227 ) 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 The gardens and walks of Paris. 
 
 Paris, may the ad, i8oz (iz floreal). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 VV HEXEVER yoil come to Paris, come with 
 the smiling- month of may. On my arrival here^ 
 at the end of October, I was dispjusted with the 
 dirt of the streets, the mire of the Thuilleries, 
 the ruts of the Boulevards, and the general 
 gloom of the town. Accustomed to take a ffreat 
 (leal of exercise, I could not persuade myself to 
 be shut up, the whole of every day, either in a 
 liot room, or a close carriao-e. I therefore con- 
 tinned to walk about: but, while my feet were 
 cut to pieces at every step, I was ficquently in 
 danger of being run over by a rapid cabriolet, 
 or s(]ueezc(l to atoms under the ponderous wheels 
 of an overloaded cart. Nor was I consoled for 
 this hazardous undertaking bv meeting with any 
 conversable persons of my acquaintance. 
 
 The Parisians, who have carriages, never think 
 of walking during the severe days of winter; 
 and those who <lo not possess that convenience, 
 spend the greater part of every day at home. 
 To save the expense of a fiacre*^ they Mill; 
 
 Hackney coach. 
 Q i^
 
 22S LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 indeed, sometimes use their feet in going to a 
 restaurateurs, a spectacle, or a ball, or in pay- 
 ing some of those innumerable visits, in which an 
 inhabitant of this town passes half his life ; but, 
 as to taking exercise for health, it never enters 
 into the calculations of a frenchman. Nothing, 
 therefore, could be so dismal as the streets in 
 the months of november, december, and Janu- 
 ary ; and a severer punishment could not be de- 
 vised for the daily murder of time committed by 
 our Bond street loungers, than to condemn them 
 to a three months pilgrimage, at that period of 
 the year, round the streets of Paris. 
 
 The spring has, with fine weather, changed 
 the face of every thing here; and a person fond 
 of exercise may now have all the advantages 
 which he can possibly desire. 
 
 The Thailltries and Champs Elisees, which 
 in winter are almost impassable, nov/ offer ex- 
 cellent gravel walks, and delightful shade under 
 the long avenues of lofty trees. Here crowds 
 are collected at almost every hour of the day ; 
 and, besides long lines of pedestrians, rows of 
 chairs are filled with ladies eating ice, and poli- 
 ticians reading newspapers. 
 
 The I]ois de Boulogne affords an admirable 
 ride for persons in carriages or on horseback, 
 and a lengthened walk for those on foot. 
 
 Besides these, there are several delightful gar- 
 dens open to the public in different parts of the
 
 LETTER XXV IT I. 229 
 
 town. The Boulevards, which surround Paris on 
 every side, are now seen to great advantage. 
 
 The walks are in high order, the trees are in 
 rich foHag-e ; and the number of mountebanks, 
 printsellers, quack doctors, and shows of all 
 kinds, collected here, and the crowds of persona 
 and carriages which are constantly passing, make 
 them present a very curious and lively scene. 
 
 The " Hameau de Chantillij,''' or Eimcc de 
 Bourbon, very near the Champs Elis^es, has a 
 very pretty, though not an extensive garden, 
 into which, for a few sols, you gain admittance. 
 It was hence I saw madame Garnerin ascend, 
 about a month ago, in a balloon, unaccompanied 
 by any one. The day was fine; and we were all 
 much delighted with the courage of the fair 
 heroine, who was the first female that had ven- 
 tured alone on such an expedition. 
 
 She descended a few leagues from Paris, and 
 supped,^ the same evening, in public, at the 
 Hameau, where she was received with universal 
 and merited applause. 
 
 I am particularly pleased with a garden, called 
 ** MousseiLV, ou Its delices de Ckartre," situate 
 in the Fauxhourg St. Jlonori, and within the 
 gates of Paris. It formerly belonged to the duke 
 of Orleans ; but, having been confiscated with 
 the rest of his enormous fortune, is now national 
 property, and open every day for the use of the 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 public. The garden is arranger! in tlie eiiglish 
 taste, commands an extensive view, and has all 
 the advantages and appearance of" grounds at a 
 considerable distance from i capital. Fine ver- 
 dure, trees of every kind in the must luxuriant 
 blossom, variety of floVvers, a clear sky, and 
 birds warbling a thousand wild notes, make you 
 entirely forget the town ; and the whole seems a 
 fairy scene produced by enchantment. 
 
 The only things in bad taste, I mean the mo- 
 dern antiques and drawbridges, are now falling 
 into decay ; and the artihcial ruins are daily 
 becoming real ones. 
 
 The salon or house consists of a long nailery ; 
 but it has been so much neglected during the 
 revolution, that it is now in a very tottering and 
 dangerous state. " Mousseux"' is still a most de- 
 lightful spot, and must have been exquisitely so. 
 when kept ii^ ''proper order. I doubt much, if 
 such a garde'rt'is to be found within the walls of 
 any other capital in Europe. 
 
 I ought to mention, that, though the town is 
 completely hidden in the shady walks of this 
 charming retreat, one of the best views of Pari-j 
 is enjoyed from a billock of easy ascent, situate in 
 the centre of these grounds. There is a traiteur 
 'at the door of the garden, where dinners may be 
 "ordei-ed ; but his accommodations (as far as cah 
 "b'e judged from the outward appearance of \\h
 
 LETTER XXViiTi iSl 
 
 habitation) I should suppose not very siiperiour. 
 I have heard, ho\rever, of large and fashionable 
 parties, who have dined here. Nothing is paid 
 for walkino' in the o*arden. 
 
 At the further end of the Bois de Bouho-ne, 
 about two miles from Paris, there is another' 
 ])lace of this kind, which, wlienever you come 
 to Paris, I recommend vour visitinor: It is called 
 ^'Bagatelle,'' and formerly belonged to the 
 prince dt Comic, who is said to h.ave built the 
 house and arranged the grounds in the space of 
 six weeks. The building, which is now an inn 
 or tavern, is light and elegant ; and the garden 
 (allowing for some few exceptions) is laid out 
 Avith considerable taste. Near the house there i^ 
 a very pretty and very striking view of the bridge 
 o'i Neuilli). The accommodations here are good, 
 and a person fond of the country cannot pass a 
 hne evening more agreeably, than by dining at 
 Bagatelle, and strolling afterwards about the 
 grounds. 
 
 Before I conclude my account of the gardens 
 of Paris, I ought to mention two, whicli are 
 opened at this season of the year, at a late hour, 
 and usually frequented after the opera, or other 
 spectacles ; I mean Frcscati and Trooli. 
 
 Frescatl consists of a laro-e house and small 
 garden, situate on the Boulevard. The gate 
 stands in the corner of "la rue de la Loi." 
 The apartments, elegantly painted with Italian 
 
 Q 4
 
 S32 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 landscapes, are large and numerous, and splen- 
 didly lighted every evening. The garden 
 was illuminated last night, for the first time 
 this season, and is as pretty as its limited 
 extent can permit. It is the fashion to come here 
 ahout ten o'clock ; and the amusement consists 
 in walking about, chatting with your friends, 
 eating ices and cakes, or drinking tea, punch, or 
 lemonade, the sale of which articles constitute 
 the whole profits of the landlord, to whom nothing 
 }s paid for admittance. Frescati is, in short, 
 a kind of coifee house ; and, notwithstanding the 
 smell of brandy, gin, and rum, generally preva- 
 lent, is frequented by ladies as well as gentlemen. 
 When I first came here, I supposed that these 
 ladies were of a ceiHain ckscriptioti : but I was 
 soon undeceived ; and, besides seeing at this 
 place the most respectable families of Paris, was 
 assured by a ci-derant comttsse excessively rigid 
 on matters of etiquette, " que toute la bonne 
 compagnie y alloit*." After this authoritative de- 
 cision, it would be presumptuous to doubt the 
 propriety of going to Frescati) and our most 
 scrupulous countrywomen may, without appre- 
 hension of being taken either for ** fiUes" or 
 ^* parvenues," enjoy this strange and singular 
 amusement. 
 
 T'woU is but just opened far the season. I 
 have been there once. It is a large and beautiful 
 
 * That all the good company of Paris went there.
 
 LETTER XXVITI. ^3$ 
 
 garden, situate in *Ma rue St. Lazare," in the 
 " Chauss^ed'Antin." It Mas illuminated with much 
 taste ; the trees are lofty ; and the whole seemed 
 to resemhle what I imagine our Vauxhall was, 
 before it Mas covered in. 
 
 There was a hand of music, and dancing, on 
 a platform erected for the purpose. Tlicre 
 was also a party of tumhlcrs. The company 
 was not either very numerous or very genteel ; 
 but the night M'as not hot, and fine M'cather is 
 necessary to render this place agreeable ; as 
 there is no house or shelter of any kind. In 
 the months of July or august Tivoii must be 
 delit>;htful. 
 
 I forgot to mention, that there were round- 
 abouts, (as they are vulgarly called in Eng- 
 land) on which full grown people were very 
 "•ravelv amusing; themselves. I heard, the other 
 day, of a duel, which took place in con- 
 sequence of a dispute for one of these places. 
 You will scarcely believe the report ; yet I am 
 every day convinced, that there is nothing so 
 ridiculous, that fancy can suppose, which does 
 not actually and frequently take place in this 
 most extraordinary town. 
 
 Having gi\'en you this short sketch of the 
 amusements " al fresco," I shall conclude with 
 repeating my recommendations to you, when- 
 ever you come to Paris, to ccme in the spring.
 
 234 LETTER xxviir. 
 
 Winter is, indeed, the time, for private so- 
 ciety; but I have found from experience, that 
 a foreigner has so little to expect on this head, 
 that it is infinitely wiser to choose a season, 
 when an infinite variety of amusements, and 
 all the charms of Nature, in their richest and 
 happiest colours, oifer a sure and constant fund 
 of pleasure. 
 
 I am, &c.
 
 ( 235 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 The nranufactory of '* Gobelins," the observatory, " Ics En- 
 fans trollies," " Champ de Mars," les Invalides, and the 
 temple of Mais, containing the colours taken from dif- 
 ferent nations, and the tomb of Turenne. — Le Mmee dcs 
 Momimens francois, or collection of monuments. — List of 
 the most esteemed of these. — Note to this letter contains 
 the account of a dinner at the first consul's. ' " '" 
 
 Paris, may the ^di, i8oz (ij floreal). 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 As my stay at Paris draws towards a conclusion, 
 I have occupied the three or four last days in vi- 
 siting those objects of curiosity, which as yet I 
 had neglectcfl to see. 
 
 The manufiictory of Gobd'ms deserves all its 
 celebrity. The colours, the desisn, and the exe- 
 cution of the tapestry made here, are equal to 
 the productions of the finest painting. I was 
 shown some specimens, which were uncommonly 
 beautiful, particularly two pieces, one of which 
 represented the assassination of the admiral Co- 
 it'^ni, and the other the heroic conduct of the 
 president Mole, copied from the picture at Ver- 
 sailles, an account of which I have already ffiven. 
 
 There are ninety persons now employed, of 
 whom I sav/ .several at work. It is astonishing 
 with what facility they seem to perform the most 
 dilficult tasks, but I am told that the art is not
 
 ^36 LtTTER XXIX. 
 
 learnt without much time and considerable atten- 
 tion. The apprenticeship requires six years, 
 and at leaft eighteen are necessary to make a pro- 
 ficient. The workmen are not locked up within 
 the walls of the manufactory, as was the case 
 during the monarchy, but they are kept under the 
 constant "surveillance* of the police." Most of the 
 pieces now in hand have been ordered by the 
 fiirst consul, and are destined to form the orna- 
 ment of St. Cloud, and other public buildings. 
 
 From the Gobelins, situate in the most dis- 
 tant part of the Fauxbourg St. Germain, I drove 
 along the new Boulevard to the observatory. I 
 found here only some common sized telescopes, 
 on which I observed with pride the respectable 
 name of " Dollond," of London. I was in- 
 formed that a magnificent instrument of this kind 
 is preparing on the plan of ilcrschel, which is to 
 be twenty-two feet long, with a speculum of 
 platina. It is to be moved on a platform, for 
 the purpose of making observations, by means 
 of a macliine invented for the purpose. I as- 
 cended the top of the building, and the view 
 thence, which commands all Paris, is grand and 
 striking. 
 
 Near the observatory is the nursery of that hu- 
 mane establishment called " les Enfans trouv^s," 
 which is still kept up on the old philanthropic 
 plan. Orphan children, deprived by death of 
 
 * Surveillance — Watch, or special cat e.
 
 L*ETTER XXTX. 237 
 
 their parents, or abandoned by them, are received 
 here without queftion, recommendation, or in- 
 quiry, and are nursed with tenderness, well fed, 
 properly educated, and lastly, qualified for some 
 trade or profession, in which they are afterwards 
 placed at the expense of the public. Their in- 
 fancy is passed in the building shown to me; 
 they are, at a certain age, sent into the country, 
 for the benefit of the air, and then return to the 
 principal hospital of the institution at Paris, where 
 their education is completed. Their number is 
 seldom less than a thousand. 
 
 I shall continue to speak of the different ob- 
 jects 1 have lately seen, in the same order in 
 which I visited them. 
 
 The Champ de Mars, where, on the 1 4th of 
 July, 1790, I was present, when the unfortunate 
 Leu'is XVI received and repeated the oath of 
 fidelity to that constitution wiiich v, as so soon 
 violated, has still the remains of that vast amphi- 
 theatre, made by the activity and zeal of the pa^ 
 risians in the course of fourteen ilays. and on 
 which were seated nearly a millicn of people. I 
 recollected all the spots, where tiie principal au- 
 thorities were placed on that memonible day; 
 and it will be needless lor me to repeat the innu- 
 merahle reflections which were created by a re- 
 membrance of the extraordinary and manyco- 
 loured events which have since occurred. The
 
 ?38 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 Ecole MUitairc, which is now a barrack for the 
 consular horse o-uards, forms the front and nrin- 
 cipal ornament of tlie Champ de Mars^ Avhich is 
 terminated on tlie other side bv the river Seine. 
 L' Ecole Militah^e was built, in 1751, from a plan 
 of GabrieL It has a handsome y^/wr/e, and a 
 lofty dome, M'ith a dial, and the figures of Time 
 and Astronomy. 
 
 The building of " les Invalides" presents one 
 of the most striking objects of Paris. Besides 
 the beauty of its construction, its handsome en- 
 trance, its four courts, its celebrated clock, its 
 lofty dome, and elegant pillars, it contains, in the 
 principal hall, or chapel, now called " le Temple 
 de Mars," the colours, or ensigns, taken during 
 the war, by the republican armies, from the diffe- 
 rent powers opposed to France. This beautiful 
 room at least a hundred feet long, is lined on all 
 sides with the badges of triumph, many of whicli 
 -bear, from their tattered appearance, the most 
 convincing proofs of not having been obtained 
 without considerable dif^cultv. Amona: the in- 
 iiumerable colours of all nations, I perceived, 
 witli pride, tliat there M'cre only two or three 
 :english ; and these, fi-om their size, had belonged 
 to some ship, perhaps to a merchantman, or to 
 -that man of war, which, after sharing the glories 
 -of y^boukir, was taken by five french vessels of 
 the line, after a resistance no less honourable 
 1
 
 LETTER XXIX. 239 
 
 than her former success. In the centre of this 
 spacious apartment, to the riglit, surrounded by 
 the trophies of his successors and countrymen, is 
 placed the tomb of Turenne. This monument 
 was removed to the Temple of Mars by the pre- 
 sent government, and placed here, with con- 
 siderable jjomp, after having been saved from the 
 fury of Jacobinical rage, and preserved, by the 
 C2ive o^ le Noir, in the ^^ Musee des Monuments 
 J'rancois." 
 
 The circumstance M'hich T have just mentioned, 
 naturall}'^ leads me to speak of the last named in- 
 stitution, which I visited yesterday for the second 
 time. On my arrival at Paris, I went to see le 
 Musee des Monuments francois ; and not beins: 
 as much struck with the exhibition as I expected, 
 from its great renown, I purposely postponed 
 speaking of it, till 1 had had an opportunity of 
 examining it again with all the attention it de- 
 served. After several hours employed in this 
 second view, I continue of my former opinion, 
 that the spot*, in which these monuments are 
 collected, is infinitely too small; that the garden, 
 rieant to be the tranquil site of sepalchral ho- 
 nours, and tlie calm retreat of departed gran- 
 deur, is on so limited a scale, is so surrounded 
 with adjoining houses, and altogether so ill ar- 
 
 * Formerly a convent.
 
 S40 LETTER XXix. 
 
 ranged, that, instead of presenting the model 
 of 
 
 " Those deep solitudes 
 
 Where h.'av'nly pensive Contemplation d\vells, 
 And ever musing Melancholy reigns," 
 
 it might easily he mistaken for the working yard 
 of a statuary, or the pleasure ground of a taste- 
 less citizen, decked out with Cupids, Mercuries, 
 and Fauns. 
 
 It must, however, be acknowledged, that "/e 
 No'ir,'' by whose care this establishment was 
 formed, deserves great credit for the courage 
 ■with which he rescued the many precious monu- 
 ments here dei)osited, from the barbarous and 
 undisc-rixninating fury of revolutionary vandalism, 
 for the perseverance and attention which has 
 marked his conduct in the arrangement, and for 
 the plan (whether successful or not, I shall not 
 pretend to examine) of presenting complete and 
 exact representations of the art of building in the 
 ditferent ages. Among the innumerable tombs, 
 crowflcd together in this collection, of which a 
 catalogue, in large octavo, is sold at the door, I 
 observed many of great beaut}', taste, and sym- 
 metry. Kings, poets, belles, philosophers, and 
 painters, torn from tlie graves, in which, for 
 centuries past, their remains had tranquilly re- 
 posed, would have had no stone to record their 
 T)ast celebritv. if this institution h^d not existed.
 
 LETTER XXIX. 241 
 
 The arts, too, are highly indebted to the founder, 
 for the specimens of sculpture, many of them 
 chefs d^'(euv7T, which are here seen in all their 
 original perfection. Models, too, of ancient and 
 Celtic buildinscs are added to those of french ar- 
 chitecture. 
 
 Le Nob-'s favourite plan of having a chapel 
 for each century, ornamented with all the appro- 
 priate decorations, and containing the tombs of 
 contemporary persons, is in part executed, and 
 three or four ages have already their respective 
 temples, completed in the taste of the times which 
 belonged to them. These chapels hav? been 
 much admired by persons, whose knowledge on 
 such subjects entitle them to respect; and it 
 would, therefore, be presumptuous in me to give 
 a dissenting voice. I shall be pardoned, however, 
 for remarking, that there appeared, in the whole 
 arrangement, a kind of quackery, which prevented 
 my feeling that unalloyed satisfaction which I had 
 been led to expect; and that, in spite of my better 
 judgment, I felt an inclination to laugh, when 
 perhaps my tears ought to have flowed. 
 
 As every body must rejoice at the preservation 
 of these monuments, whatever opinions he may 
 entertain al)out the arrangement, I cannot help 
 regretting, that they are not deposited in a phice 
 more worthy of containing them. Since the re- 
 storation of religion lias removed cs^iv^ obstacle 
 
 n
 
 242 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 wh'R'h could be started to such a project, would 
 it not be worthy of the present government, de- 
 cidedly the friend and protector of the arts, to 
 order that all these precious specimens of sculp- 
 ture should become the ornament of one or more 
 of the principal churches of Paris, the present 
 naked state of which is an additional argument in 
 favour of the measure*^ What splendour would 
 they not both receive and confer, in being re- 
 moved either to Notre Dame, St. Siilpice, or St, 
 GenSvihe ? 
 
 To satisfy the curiosity M'hich I know you en- 
 tertain on such subjects, I examined, with atten- 
 tion, the principal objects, and marked in my 
 catalogue those which seemed most deserving of 
 notice. The following is the list: 
 
 No. 5. The tomb of Dagobert, with th« figures of Naq- 
 tilda his wife, and Clovis his son. 
 
 S*. Tiie tomb of Lewis Xli. 
 
 99. The Monument, or sepulchral Chapel, of Francis 
 the First, with Claude his wife. — (Destroyed in 
 the revolution, and restored by le Noir.) 
 
 105. Monument erected in honour of Aim of Mont- 
 morency. 
 
 111. A group of Graces. 
 
 lis. Statue of Henry the Fourth of France, assassi- 
 nated in 1610, clad in a military dress. The 
 artist was FrancavUla, or Franctvelle, as he was 
 otherwise called. The catalogue mentions, that 
 judging ixoia the body, found at St. Denys in
 
 LETTER XXIX. 243 
 
 1793, and which was yet perfect, one should 
 suppose that this was a striking likeness. 
 Ko. 115. Statue of Claude Catherine de Clermont Tonnere. 
 
 121. Statue in bla«k marble, representing David after 
 the death of Goliath, by Peter Francaiilla, in 
 1580. 
 
 145. Monument erected in honour of Charles the Fiftht 
 taken from 6V» Gefmain-des-Pres. His medallion, 
 in bronze, is by John Cousin. 
 
 174-. The Mausoleum of the Cardinal de Richelietif 
 taken from the /Sorio/me.— This celebrated group 
 of figures, after a design by le Brun, was exe-> 
 cuted by Girurdon, and considered as his chef- 
 d'cEurre. 
 
 187. The Mausoleum of Cardinal Mazurin, taken from 
 the college of that name. This monument, of 
 white marble, is the work of Coyzerox. 
 
 189- Statue of Ann of Austria, taken from the Pont 
 an Change. Executed by Gnillain. 
 
 200. Monument, erected to Juhn Baptiste Colbert, the 
 celebrated minister. 
 
 263. Monument, in marble, erected to the memory of 
 Charles It Brun, one of the most celebrated 
 painters of the french school. Taken from St. 
 Hichotns de Chardonnet. 
 
 505. A group of Figures ni black marble, representing 
 Francis Michael Letellier Marquis de Louvois, mi- 
 nister of state, who died in 1691.— This was the 
 work of Girardon,. 
 
 207. This Monument, called la Pj/ramide, or the pillar 
 of Longiieville, was erected by Anne Genhiive de 
 Bourbon, duchess of Longiieville, and was meant 
 in honour both of the first and second duke of 
 that name 
 
 tl SI
 
 244 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 No. 208. This is a Monument formed by le Noir, froin the 
 ruins of that which formerly stood in la place 
 dcs Victoires. He has placed on the pedestal a 
 figure of Abundance and Equality. 
 
 210. A colossal Statue, taken from les Invalides, repre- 
 
 senting Charlemagne. Executed by Coyzetox. 
 
 211. A colossal Statue of Leuis the Eleventh, in black 
 
 marble, executed by Cousfon. Taken from lef 
 Invalides. 
 
 214. A Statue of Lewis the Fourteenth, in black marble, 
 by Michel Anguier. The king is in a Roman dress, 
 
 218. A much admired Statue, by Sarrasin, of St. Deny* 
 praying. Taken from the abbey of Montmartre, 
 
 220 or 449. This fine Monument, executed under the 
 immediate orders and design of the celebrated 
 architect Bidlant, was taken from St. Martin, at 
 Montmorency, and was erected in honour of Ann 
 de Montmorency. 
 
 2S5. The marble Bust of Lewis de Bourbon Conde, called 
 the great Conde, from the chisel of Coyzevox. 
 
 384. This is a modern Monument, in honour of modern 
 events, and of living characters. It is the work 
 of Foucon, and it is meant to represent, allego- 
 rically, the peace of Lunevilie, and to record the 
 glory c f Bonaparte. 
 
 448. This is a beautiful Statue, in black marble, of 
 Francis the First on his death bed. Two thou- 
 sand modern goths, not content with mutilating 
 this chff'd'oeuvre, have ventured to record their 
 barbarity in writing on the monument itself, or 
 rather on what remains, their dishonoured names, 
 several of which are still apparent. The conven- 
 tion, afterwards found it necessary to pass a law, 
 condemning to ten years imprisonment, in chain9» 
 tlie mutilators or destroyers of the works of art.
 
 LETTER XXIX. 245 
 
 The following are in the garden ; 
 No. 467. From the Chateau d'Anct, a beautiful group, re- 
 presenting Diana wiih a stag, accompanied by 
 her dOijS, Procy^n and Siriiis — supposed tu be the 
 woriv of John Govgeon, made for the fountain in 
 the park of Diana of Poitiers, at ^/let. 
 
 471. Statue, in black marble, and on his knees, of 
 Lewis II. Taken from the church of Notre Dame 
 de Clay, where it was dreadfuljy mutilated by 
 the furv of the inhabitants. It was the work of 
 Michael Bourdin, of Orleans, who, not satisfied 
 with the price which he received for it, stole a 
 silver lamp from the church, for which crime he 
 was afterwards executed at Orleans. 
 
 507. A scpulchr-al Urn, containing the ashes of the cele- 
 brated lienc Descartes, who died in Sweden, in the 
 year l650. 
 
 .508. The Tomb of Moliere, containing the body of that 
 celjebrated dramatic writer. The following inscrip- 
 tion appears : 
 " Moliere & Thalie reposent dans ce tombeau*." 
 
 The whole is surroujided with myrtles, roses, 
 and cypress trees. 
 
 509. Tlie tomb of J. de la Fontaine, containing his body. 
 
 510. Ihis is a iNIonument with four fronts. It contains 
 
 the busts of Moliere, Jolir/. la Fontaine, Boiltau, 
 and Racine, who were intimate friends, and 
 sometimes lived together at Auteuil. 
 
 511. The Tomb which, for some time, contained the 
 
 mummy of Turenne, first preserved in the Music 
 de I'liisloire Naturtllf, then repioved to this spot, 
 and lastly placed, as 1 have before observed, in the 
 Temple of Mars. 
 
 * Molirre and Thalia rest in this grave. 
 
 R 3
 
 245 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 No. 555. Sepulchral Urn, containing the ashes of the cele* 
 brated Boileau, with thib inscription : 
 " Nicholas Boikau est dans ce tombeau*." 
 
 And above: 
 «* Ainsi que ines chagrins, mes beaux jours sont passes, 
 Je ne'sens plus I'aigreur de ma bile premiere, 
 Et laisse aus froids rimeurs, une libre carrieref ." 
 
 Boileau, Epist. 5. a M. GuUleraquei, 
 
 There are, doubtless, besides those \vhi(h I 
 have enumerated, many statues deserving of no- 
 tice; but I have specified these, on account of 
 the celebrity of the artists, or that of the persons 
 whose memory the monuments were intended to 
 record. I send you a very imperfect account, 
 yet it is the result of a six hours' visit, made with 
 no little care and attention. 
 
 Le Nolr's catalogue, which, I understand, 
 is now translating into english, concludes with a 
 curious account of the state in which the bodies 
 of the former kings of France were found at St. 
 DenySf when, in the year 1793, the national con^ 
 vention, with a savage disregard of decency, and 
 with a contempt for departed grandeur scarcely 
 credible, ordered that the kings, princes, and 
 other great men, who had for fifteen hundred 
 years lain in peace at St. Denys, should be drag- 
 ged from their tombs, in order that the lead, of 
 
 * Nicholas Boileau is in this tomb. 
 
 •f- My cares, as well as my happy days, are past. I feel no longer the 
 indignation of my youthful anger, and leave an open course to the ir^b^ 
 of dull and cold versificators.
 
 LETTER xxrx. 247 
 
 M'hich their coffins were made, should be converted 
 into ball 
 
 You will be surprised to hear, that the cele- 
 brated luren/ie, preserved like a mummy, was in- 
 stantly recognizeu by the resemblance which he 
 sti'l bore to his busis and pictures ; and Henry 
 the fourth was yet so perfect, (though he died in 
 1610), that not a feature was altered. 
 
 Thi- accou.it is already of sucli a lenoth, that 
 I shall make no apology fl^r abruptly conclud- 
 
 mg It. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Returning home to day, at half past four o'clock, from view* 
 ing some of the sights, ( ^ hich I have mentioned in my 
 letter), we found a messenger waiting with ii note from the 
 Thuilkries. It proved to be an invitation to Mrs. — — , 
 from the first consul, asking her to dinner the same day at 
 five. She dressed as quickly a- possible, and drove to the 
 palace. She is just returned ; and from her statement, I 
 send vou the following short account. 
 
 Tie entertainment was extremely elegant, and the sight very 
 striking. More than two hundred persons sat down to 
 table in a splendid apartment. The company consisted, 
 besides the family of Bonaparte, of the min sters, the am- 
 bassadors, several generals, senators, counsellors of state, 
 and other constituted authorities. The number of women 
 present was by no means in proportion to that of the 
 men, and did not exceed fifteen. All the english ladies, 
 who had been presented to madame Bonaparte, were in- 
 vited (though not their husbands) to this entertainment ; 
 but it happened, that only two remaiued at Paris. 
 
 r4
 
 248 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 The dinner was served entirely on plate and Stvre china, the 
 
 latter bearing the letter B on every dish, and every plate ; 
 
 and the plateau was covered with moss, out of which arose 
 
 innumerable natural flowers, the odour of which perfumed 
 
 the whole room. 
 The first consul and madame Bonaparte conducted themselves 
 
 with much ease, ^and spoke very affably to those around 
 
 them. 
 The servants were numerous, splendidly dressed, and highly 
 
 attentive. The dumer lasted more than two hours.
 
 ( 249 ) 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 General account of liters ry establishments at Paris, — Na-. 
 ticnal library. — ^Manuscripts. — Memoirs of his own times, 
 by Lewis XIV. — Fac ,si?nile of a love letter of Henry IV.— 
 Cabinet of qiedals.^pCabinet of engravings, &c.— Library 
 of the Pantheon. — Mazarine library. — Library of the In- 
 stitute. — Libraries of the senate, the legislative body, and 
 tribunate. — The Lycees, now called les Athenees.— Admi- 
 rable lectures given at one of them. — -Professors Fourcroj/f 
 Cuvier, and la Harpe. — ■ " LTnstitute national." — " Jardin 
 national des Plantcs " — Collection of birds, plants, fossils, 
 and insects, in the house attached to the " Jardin des 
 Planfes." — " Cabinet de I'Ecole des IMines, a I'Hoiel des 
 Monnoies." — Great opportunities afforded at Paris of culti- 
 vating science and literature in all their various branches. 
 
 Paris, may the lOth, l8o2 (20 florcal.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 X HiAA'^E postponed speaking to j'ou of the 
 literaiy establishments of Paris, till my residence 
 here had ])een sufficiently loni>; to enable me to 
 give my opinion with some deg-ree of certainty. 
 
 Perhaps there is no town in the known world, 
 M'hich affords such favourable opportunities of ac- 
 quiring and cultivating knowledge, as that from 
 which I am now writing. On this subject, equality 
 in the best sense exists ; and M'hile the poor man 
 has the finest libraries, and most extenfive col- 
 ledions opened to his use, without any expense 
 whatever, he, Avhose circumstances are moderately 
 easy, obtains, for a trifling consideration, every 
 possible means of additional improvement.
 
 250 LETTER XXX. 
 
 The national library, which existed during the 
 nioDarchv, and was founded bv Charlv^s the fifth, 
 occupies a large building in the rm de la Loi 
 (ci-dtvant de Richelieu). An elegant staircase, 
 painted by Pelegrini, leads to the spacious apart- 
 ments on the first floor, M'hich take up three sides 
 of the large court by which you enter, and which 
 contain no less than three hundred thousand print- 
 ed volumes. Five or six rooms, well lighted and 
 well aired, ofifer on each side the best books, in 
 every science and in every langua2:e. Tallies are 
 placed for the convenience of students, and atten- 
 tive librarians civilly deliver the works which are 
 asked for. 
 
 In the second room is a curious piece of work- 
 manship, called " le Parnasse fran^ois*" by 
 Titon Dutillet, in which the different poets and 
 VI iters of France are represented as climbing up 
 the steep ascent of that difficult but inspired 
 mountain. In my opinion, it deserves attention 
 more as a specimen of national taste, and private 
 industry, than as a production either ef genius 
 or of beauty. 
 
 In the third ''salon' are the celebrated globes, 
 the one celestial, the other terrestrial, made in 
 1683, by the Jesuit Coronelli, for the cardinal 
 d'Estrees. They are of immense dimensions, but 
 require new painting ; as, in the first place, they 
 were made before the last discoveries, and se- 
 
 * French Parnassus. 
 I
 
 lETTtR XKX. '^51 
 
 condly, the colours are almost entirely effaced 
 by the lapse of time. 
 
 This admirable library, Avhich also contains 
 collections of medals, and other Curiosities, is 
 open to all persons who choose to attend as 
 students, without any expense, recommendation, 
 or favour, every day in the week; but, to prevent 
 the labours of these being interrupted, the visits 
 of such as only come from motives of curiosity 
 are limited to two days in seven. I saw, with 
 pleasure, that the object of this splendid institu* 
 tion is fully answered. Forty or fifty young men, 
 deeply intent on the subject of their inquiries, 
 were seated in different parts of the room, and 
 seemed to pursue, with enthusiasm, those studies, 
 which the liberality of their country thus afforded 
 them the means of cultivating. 
 
 The gallery of manuscripts (called the gallery 
 of JMazarine) contains thirty thousand volumes, 
 generally on the history of France, and more 
 particularly relating to facts which have taken 
 place since the reign of Lewis XI, twenty-five 
 thousand of which are in learned or foreign lan- 
 guages. The librarian, to whose care these pre- 
 cious pajiers are entrusted, was known to a gen- 
 tleman who accompanied me, and through his 
 goodness we saw several, which are not commonly 
 exhibited. 
 
 I was much surprised at finding, in the hand 
 M'riting of Lewis XIl^. memoirs of his own times, 
 so accurately taken, that, with very little ditfi- 
 
 5
 
 252 LETTER XXJv. 
 
 culty, they might he prepared for the press. I 
 understand that a gentleman, belonging to the 
 librar}', hcgan this useful task, and had made con- 
 siderable progress, when a sudden illness deprived 
 his country and the literary world of his services. 
 
 I was not a little entertained with the love 
 letters of Henry IV, which are in perfect pre- 
 servation, and some of which have, I believe, 
 been pijblished. The following is ^fuc simile of 
 one, which particularly attracted my notice: 
 
 *' Mon cher cocur, nous venons de dyner 
 ceans, et sommes fort sous. Je 
 vous veyrje devant que party re de Parys 
 vous cherry re non comme yl 
 faut, mes comme je pourre 
 Ce porteur me haste sy fort que 
 je ne vous puys fayre que ce 
 mot bonsoyr le coeur a moy je 
 te bese un mylyon de foys 8 
 ce XI nil™' octobre 8 h 8 
 
 8 
 HENRY*.' 
 
 * The fullowing is nearly the exact translation : 
 
 " My dear heart, we have just dined, and arc very drunk, 
 
 I will see you before I ?et out from Paris, and will caress 
 
 you not as you deserve, but as I can. The bearer hurries 
 
 me so much, that I can only say this one word — good night, 
 
 my dear heart, I kiss you a million of times. 3 
 
 This xiiiiith October, S h 8 
 
 8 
 HENRY." .
 
 LETTER XXX. 253 
 
 As the tokens of regard, which the gallant 
 Henry thouglit his mistress deserved, were only 
 limited in number to a riiilHon, we cannot too 
 much admire the prudence with which he, who 
 was never known to break his word, promised to 
 testify his affection, not according to the merit 
 of the lady, but to the powers of her lover. 
 
 The five larsfe rooms on the second floor con- 
 tain the titles and genealogies of private families, 
 which, though forbidden, since the revolution, 
 to be kept by individuals, are here preserved, in 
 order to ascertain the claims of property, and to 
 assist the researches of historians. They are con- 
 tained in five thousand boxes, or porte-ftuilltSy 
 and are arranged and labelled with the greatest 
 precision. 
 
 The cabinet of medals is ornamented by draw- 
 ings over the doors by Boucher \ b}'^ three large 
 pictures, byNatoire, representing Thalia, Calliope, 
 and Terpsichore; by three of Carlo Vanloo, re- 
 presenting Psyche, led by Hymen, the inventreis 
 of the flute, and tlie three protectors of the 
 JMuses. Tlie cabinet of antiques, above stairs, 
 contains the busts, vases, inscriptions, instru- 
 ments of sacrifice, &c. collected by the cele- 
 brated Cayliis. 
 
 The cabinet of engravings, which occupies what 
 is called, in France, the " entresol," or the floor 
 between the first and second, consists of five 
 tiiousand volumes, divided into twelve classes.
 
 §54 LETTER XXX. 
 
 The first contains sculptors, architects, engineers, 
 and engravers, arranged in schools. The second, 
 prints, emblems, and devices of piety. The 
 third, greek and roman fables and antiquities. 
 The fourth, medals, coins, and arms. The fifth, 
 pui)lic festivals, cavalcades, and tournaments. 
 The sixth, arts and mathematics. The seventh, 
 prints relating to romances and works of plea- 
 santry. The eighth, natural history in all its 
 branches. The ninth, geography. The tenth, 
 plans and views of ancient and modern edifices. 
 The eleventh, portraits of persons, of all con- 
 ditions, to the number of fifty thousand ; and the 
 twelfth, a collection of fashions and costumes of 
 almost every country in the world, from the 
 porte-feuille of Gaigniercs. This last class is 
 said to contain the most extensive collection yet 
 known of trench fashions, from the time of Clovis 
 to the present age. The greater part of the 
 sheets are coloured, some are on vellum, copied 
 from glass windows, from pieces of tapestry, and 
 from figures on tombs. The picture of king 
 John, being the first specimen of french painting, 
 is found in this collection. It is well preserved. 
 
 I ought not to conclude my account of the 
 national library without mentioning, that among 
 the manuscripts there are several in the persian, 
 arabic, and Chinese languages. 
 
 Besides the " national library," there is the 
 library of the Pantheon (or St. G6nevi^ve), con-
 
 LETTER XXX. 255 
 
 listing of eighty thousand volumes, and two thou- 
 sand manuscripts, open every day from ten till 
 two o'clock. 
 
 The Mazarine library, or (" des quatre na- 
 tions,") is open every day, from ten till two 
 o'clock (excepting on the 6th and 1 0th of each 
 month), and contains sixty thousand volumes. 
 
 The library of the " Institute'' is open every 
 day to members, and every 15th of the montii to 
 the public. 
 
 The legislature, the tribunate, the senate, and 
 the other constituted authorities, have albo their 
 libraries. 
 
 In addition to these sources of knowledge, 
 there are several literary institutions, called, when 
 I first came here, " des Lycks, or LyceumSf'* 
 but which, in consequence of the national col- 
 leges lately established having taken that name, 
 have changed theirs, and assumed the appellation 
 of *' des A th hires.'' The most distinguished of 
 these, " le Lycee," (or, according to its new 
 title, *' I'Athen^e,"), *' republicain," has been 
 the principal source of my amusement at Paris. 
 It consists of annual subscribers, who, for the 
 moderate sum of four louis, enjoy all its bene- 
 fits. 'I he society has a large floor, or apartment, 
 situate near the " Palais Royal," (in a street 
 called by its name); and it is open the whole of 
 every day for the use of the subscribers. There 
 is a small librar}-, where all the periodical pub-
 
 256 LETTER XXTi. 
 
 lications and newspapers are taken in; -and while 
 three or four rooms are appropriated to con- 
 versation, one is devoted to reading, and pro-* 
 found silence is tliere ordered and maintained. 
 In addition to these, there is an excellent lec- 
 ture room, with all the necessary apparatus for 
 experiments, in which the ablest men in France 
 appear as professors. The subject of the lec- 
 tures, which are regularly given, always twice, 
 and frequently three times, in the course of the 
 day, are literature, the sciences, and modern 
 languages. When I add, that Fourcroy takes 
 the chymical department, that Cuvier reads on 
 natural history, and that-/« Harpe, till banished 
 by the government, was the professor of litera-^ 
 ture, you will readily allow, that no establish- 
 ment can be better organized. Besides these, 
 *' Hasse)2jratz" gives very good lectures on 
 agriculture, and the studies connected with that 
 science. " SiiS,'' as an anatomist, is justly cele- 
 brated; and the other professors, in their diffe- 
 rent lines, prove themselves well qualified for 
 the tasks assigned them. With " Fourcroy^'' 
 and ^''Cuvier," I was particularly delighted; and 
 it is impossible, Avithout having heard them, to 
 form an idea of the clearness and eloquence with 
 which they explain the subjects of their respective 
 departments. As to 'W^ Harpe'' I must con- 
 fess, I was not a little disappointed. From his 
 great renown, and from the encomiums past on
 
 LETTER XXX. 2.5? 
 
 him, in early life, by Voltaire, I expected to 
 have been at once pleased, instructed, and sur- 
 prised. In these hopes I was strongly encouraged 
 by the manner in which his lectures were spoken 
 of at Paris, and by the crowds which flocked to 
 the **Zj/cee," whenever it was his turn to fill 
 the chair. Dreadful was my disappointment, 
 when, at last, I heard him. Perpig)?an, la 
 Motte, Fontcndk, and some other authors of 
 that stamp, were the subjects of his discourses; 
 and, beginning with telling us that these writers 
 Avere either entirely forgotten, or deserved to be 
 so, he continued, for Avhole days together, to 
 drag their ghosts before his audience, whom he 
 seemed to convert into a *' tribunal rholuti- 
 onairc" of criticism, and to attack their memory 
 with all the warmth and violence of an '^ ac- 
 cusateur pubiKjue." These philippics against 
 lead and neglected authors, filled up with long 
 quotations from the works which he ridiculed, 
 interlarded with attacks on those philosophical 
 and political principles of which he was originally 
 the ardent advocate, and enlivened now and 
 then M'ithajok(\ and sometimes with an anec- 
 dote, constituted the whole merit of his lectures. 
 Yet the members of the " Zj/ceV heard him 
 with wonder and admiration; and whenever he 
 threw down his book, turned round with a look 
 of self-complacence, or filled his tumbler with 
 
 s 
 
 (
 
 C5S LETTER XXX. 
 
 lemonade from the decanter always placed by his 
 side, the signal was instantly taken, and loud 
 and repeated applauses thundered from every 
 corner of the room. To account for this par- 
 tiality, I must repeat, that every thing at Paris is 
 ruled by fashion; and la Harpe being generally 
 considered as the most distinguished literary 
 man now alive, every thing which fell from his 
 tonirue was necessarilv excellent: and I have no 
 doubt, that if he had contented himself with 
 reading an article from one of the newspapers of 
 the morning, he M'ould have been equally ad- 
 mired and as warmly applauded. 
 
 The '* Lyctc"' is altogether a most excellent 
 establishment; and, considering, that two lec- 
 tures, and frequently three, are given six days in 
 every week, and that these lectures are included 
 in the subscription, the price of four louis is very 
 moderate. 
 
 I cannot speak properly of this institution as a 
 place of society, as I seldom staid there after 
 the conclusion of the lectures; but I am told, 
 that the members are, generally speaking, re- 
 spectable men. The rooms are constantly full, 
 and some persons may be said nearly to pass 
 their lives there, since they are scarcely ever 
 absent, except at the hour of dinner. I think it 
 not improbable, that much amusement may be 
 found in the conversation of the members; but I
 
 LETTER XXX. 251^ 
 
 confine my recommendation to the advantages 
 which the " Lych"' affords, as an easy source of 
 profitahle knowledge. 
 
 " LlmCitut national,''' that celehrated so- 
 ciety, which has succeeded " r academic fran- 
 faise,''' whicli is held up as the great repuhlicaii 
 repository of genius and learning, and into which 
 admittance is solicited with so much eagerness, 
 both at home and abroad, consists of one hun- 
 dred and forty-four members resident at Paris, 
 and of twenty-four foreign associates. It is di- 
 ^ idcd into three classes; tlie sciences, physical 
 and mathematical; the sciejices, moral and po- 
 litical; literature and the fine arts. Each of these 
 classes is again subdivided. 
 
 The " Instil ut'' has a public seance, or meet- 
 ing, on the loth of every month. I was present 
 at one of these assemblies; and I am ashamed to 
 confess, that I had difticultv in refrainino- from 
 laughter. The society holds its sittings in a spa- 
 cious room in the palace of the Loicvrc. The 
 members were seated in such silent, solemn state, 
 each with his reading desk, books, ink, and wax 
 lights before him, while a dull and uninteresting 
 paper was reading, that their gravity produced 
 the opposite effect on me, and " malgrc'' my re- 
 spect for the establishment, and for those who 
 belong to it, it was not without a struggle that I 
 composed my features, and checked the impulse 
 of nature. At last, fortunately for me, " Collot 
 
 s e
 
 2^0 LETTER XXX. 
 
 d'Ho'ville,'' a dramatic writer of merit, ascended 
 the rostrum, and read a kind of funeral oration, 
 or eulogy, on the memory of an author of repu- 
 tation, lately dead. The simplicity of the speaker's 
 manner, the harmony of his voice, and the feel- 
 ing which he displayed, in deploring the loss and 
 proving the v/onh of his friend, charmed every 
 ear; and, notwithstanding the pompous faces 
 which Surrounded me, I became as melancholy 
 as they wished to appear serious. The members 
 of " rinstitut national" wear a blue cloth uni- 
 form, richly embroidered with silk of the same 
 colour. 
 
 The '^ JdfYlin natmial des Plafjtes*,''' founded 
 originally by Buifon, is one of the most interest- 
 ing objects at Paris. Naturalists, and persons 
 fond of botany, have here every opportunity of 
 Culti^■ating those useful studies, and of gratifying, 
 in the amplest manner, their favourite taste. The 
 garden itself, which is extensive, and reaches to 
 the river, contains every kind of curious and 
 exotic plant. There is a greenhouse likewise, 
 filled with such trees, the tender nature of which 
 cannot bear the coldness of a northern atmo- 
 sphere. 
 
 There is also a mhmgerie, or collection of 
 animals, among which every kind of fierce, rare, 
 and foreign quadrupeds may be found. On my 
 first arrival at Paris, there were two elephants, 
 
 * The national garden of plants.
 
 I 
 
 LETTER XXX. 251 
 
 of different sizes, who had lived several years 
 together in the same stable, They were of very 
 considerable dimensions, equal to those, the 
 efiigy of which is sometimes seen on a London 
 stage. The male has lately died, and " Cuvief 
 is to anatomise the body, and give a lecture on 
 the subject. The female, for some time after the 
 death of her companion, showed evident symp- 
 toms of grief, and even refused, at first, every 
 kind of nourishment. The house attached to 
 " le Jardin des Plantes" is filled with a precious 
 collection of curiosities in natural history, pro- 
 perly arranged, and correctly named. Seven^l 
 rooms are filled with these valuable objects; and 
 I am told, by persons acquainted with such sub- 
 jects, that very little is wanting to make this 
 dtpdt complete. Stuffed quadrupeds*, ])irds, 
 plants, fossils, fish, and shells, offer every kind of 
 variety; and even the ignoraijt man finds here a 
 source of never-failing amusement. The col- 
 lection of insects is particularly curious and ex- 
 tensive. I believe it is considered as the finest in 
 the world. 
 
 The " Jardin des Plantes," like every oth^r 
 national establishment at Paris, is seen gratui- 
 tously, and is open to foreigners every da}', while 
 frenchmen are only admitted three or four ti mcs 
 
 * Among the curious quadrupeds hqre preserved i3 the 
 Camelopardalis. Vide Vailhint's Travels in JfrUa, 
 
 s 3
 
 262 LETTER XXX. 
 
 in each week. It is impossible to mention too 
 often, or to admire too highly, a trait of hos- 
 pitality so truly magnificent. 
 
 The " cabinet de VEcole des Allfies" is a su- 
 perb establishment. It is situate in the principal 
 building towards the key of the " Jidtel des Mon- 
 naies.'" It was formed in 1778, of the collec- 
 tion which the famous mineralogist, le Sage, was 
 eighteen years in putting together. The middle 
 of the cabinet forms an amphitheatre, capable of 
 containing two hundred persons. Glass cases 
 enclose, in the finest order, minerals of every 
 kind, and from every part of the world. Four 
 other separate cases offer models of machinery. 
 On the stairs, leading to the gallery, is the bust 
 of monsieur le Sage, which was placed there by 
 the gratitude of his pupils. The gallery itself is 
 surrounded with cases, containing specimens of 
 the productions of mines, too numerous to be 
 placed with those which are in the first cabinet of 
 mines. The interior of the cabinet is 45 feet 
 long, by 38 wide, and 40 feet high. All the 
 english, who have seen " rEcoie des Mines y"* 
 agree, in speaking* of it as one of the most in- 
 teresting sights of this interesting capital*. 
 
 * I do not montion I'EcoIe Poii/fcchnique, that admirable 
 institution, in vvhicli eight hundred young men, named by 
 the gpvernment (principally as a reward for the services of 
 ^heir fathers), are liberally educated, because it forms part 
 of the system of public instruction, which, being of a political
 
 LETTER XXX. 2^3 
 
 Beside the great establishmt^iits Mliich I have 
 mentioned, there are several others, which it 
 would be an endless task to attempt to specify. 
 
 There are also many " lyc^es" or *' athen^-es," 
 beside that of which I have spoken. There 
 are likewiise private subscription lectures on all 
 subjects, many of which are of high repute, such 
 as those of Mr. Charles on natural philosophy, of 
 the excellence of whose experiments, and the 
 clearness of whose discourses, I hear a very ia- 
 vourable account. 
 
 The cnglish, german, and italian languages, 
 are tauglit b}' professors at the different " lyc6es," 
 by particular subscription, and for moderate 
 sums in other places. In short, there is no 
 literary pursuit, of any kind, which any man, ill 
 any circumstances, may not cultivate with suc- 
 cess at Paris. 
 
 Fortitude is necessary to resist the opportu- 
 nities of committing crimes, if the individual be 
 poor, and of falling into the temptations of plea- 
 sure, if he happen to be rich. Guarded against 
 these respective evils, the industrious scholar, 
 M'hethcr covered with rags, or " clad every day 
 in purple," may move on in the career of letters 
 with every possible advantage, and with the cer- 
 
 nature, is fcrcign to my object. In tliis letter I only mean to 
 point out those establishments, from which foreigners caii 
 derive either information or pleasure.
 
 264 LETTER XXX. 
 
 titude of, at last, obtaining the utmost object of 
 his wishes. If any equality exist in France, it is 
 found in the fount of knowledge, which literally 
 
 " In patriam populumque fluxit," 
 
 In addition to the opportunities afforded for 
 literary improvement already mentioned, the price 
 of books is moderate; and '■'■ cabinets literaires"' 
 offer in every quarter of the town, and almost in 
 every street, newspapers, pamphlets, and peri- 
 odical works. 
 
 Paris, however, does not possess many circu- 
 lating libraries, and of the few which exist, I can 
 give no f^ivourable account. Perhaps the facility 
 with which Avorks of value are consulted, and the 
 trifle for which those of the day are bought, are 
 the reasons of this deficiencv. It is, however, a 
 considerable convenience wanting in so great a 
 city ; and I think that such an establishment, on 
 a liberal and extended scale, would be a profit- 
 able and useful subject of speculation. 
 
 I have said nothing of "la Soci^te des belles 
 Lettres" of " la Soclete de Medechie,"' of ''la 
 Socittii d Institution^'' &c. Were I to enu- 
 merate all the useful establishments, both public 
 and private, connected with literature, my letter 
 would soon be swelled into a volume, and that 
 even of no small dimensions. I shall, therefore, 
 now conclude my account by observing, that 
 whatever are tlie particular objects, to which a
 
 LETTER XXX. 5.65 
 
 Studious man wishes to direct his attention, ^'quod 
 petit hie est," he will find here all the facilities 
 which he can possibly desire for pursuing his fa- 
 vourite science, ^vith little or no expense and 
 great advauta^e. 
 
 lam, &c.
 
 ( 265 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 Calculation and estimate of expenses at Paris. — List of 
 hotels, traiteurs, &c. 
 
 Paris, may the 12th, i8o2, (zzflorcal.) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 You know how much I dislike the petty detail 
 of economical arrangements, and will therefore 
 pardon me for having so long delayed to speak to 
 you of the expenses and mode of living at Paris. 
 I have not forgotten your queries, and will, in 
 this letter, endeavour to answer them as fully as 
 possible. You will, at least, derive one advan- 
 tage from my apparent neglect; that the inform- 
 ation which I shall now send you, is not hastily 
 given, but the result of experience, gained during 
 a residence of nearly seven months. 
 
 Persons who have represented Paris (to use 
 a vulgar phrase) as a cheap place, have either 
 been greatly deceived themselves, or have in- 
 tended purposely to deceive. The difference 
 between the expense of living in London and in 
 Paris, appears to me infinitely less than it is 
 generally supposed. It is true, indeed, that a 
 french family will apparently support a much 
 more elegant establishment on a given income, 
 than an english one can in London ; but I believe
 
 LETTER XXXI. <}67 
 
 the cause arises almost entirely from the supe- 
 riour econoniv and arraiig-enicnt of the former, 
 from the sparing system observed in the inteiiour 
 of private houses, and from the constant and 
 unvarying attention to the mtnutice of every 
 -disbursement. Though the table of a Parisian 
 boasts, when company are invited, every kind of 
 Juxury, yet I have reason to suspect, that, on 
 ordinary occasions, " le bouilli*," and *' le vin 
 ordinaire," form its principal support. A car- 
 riage, which has been in a family twenty or thirty 
 years, is treated with all the respect due to its 
 antiquity, and is seldom or ever discarded on 
 account of its oldfashioned shape or faded co- 
 Jour ; and horses, used only now and then, may 
 be fed on hay and straw. Liveries are forbidden 
 by the law ; and servants are therefore permitted 
 to wait in the tattered garments which their pre- 
 sent master lias left off, or in those which thev 
 have collected in a former service. 
 
 The drawing-rooms, and " salks d manger" 
 are lighted, even at the largest assemblies, with 
 oil, instead of wax; and antichambtrs and stair- 
 cases are so dark, that to find one's way into the 
 principal apartment is generally a service of 
 
 * The boiled beef, whic.li, after making the soup, is al- 
 ways served at a french table. " Le vin ordinaire," or 
 common v/ine, is a weak, sour beverage, which costs abSut 
 sixpence cnglibh per bottle, and is net, either in taste or 
 strength, superiour to our small beer.
 
 268 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 difficulty, if not of clanger. As to fire, on 
 common occasions, one in the bed room either 
 of " madame," or '^ monsieur," is thought suf- 
 ficient, with the addition of a poele," or stove, 
 which is so contrived, as to heat both the eating 
 room, and the antichamber, in which latter the 
 servants always sit. In respect to dress, an old 
 great coat (or " riding coat," as they call it) is 
 often worn in the house, by gentlemen, and the 
 belles who appear with the greatest splendour in 
 the evening, sometimes pass their morning in a 
 powdering gown, or ^^ robe de chamhre."" 
 
 The same kind of rigid economy is observed 
 in their amusements. A family of distinction 
 will occupy a box "cm second, or au benoir^," 
 to save a few livres ; and I knew a young lady 
 of considerable fortune, who expressed an anxious 
 wish to see the first appearance of Vestris, and 
 who, when a place was offered her, refused it, 
 Titulgre the general passion for spectacles, and 
 the celebrity of this, when she found that the 
 price of the ticket was nine francs (or seven and 
 sixpence english). I have entered into this ex- 
 planation, to account for the apparently splendid 
 establishments of persons of moderate fortunes, 
 which might otherwise seem to contradict the 
 
 * The boxes " au benoir" are on the level" with the pit, 
 under the first tier, and are in th« shape of a bath, from 
 -which they take their name.
 
 LETTER XXXI. 2^9 
 
 opinion which I am about to give, and which I 
 have already hinted. 
 
 I repeat, then, that an enghsh family settling 
 here*, with english ideas and english habits, 
 would spend very little less than they would do 
 iu London, with a similar establishment. 
 
 To enable you to judge for yourself on this 
 subject, I shall mention the prices of the most 
 essential articles of expense; some of which are 
 lower, while others are infinitel}' higher. 
 
 Meat is much cheaper, being only eleven or 
 twelve sols per pound (or five or six pence 
 english). 
 
 Bread bears, at present, nearly the same price 
 in the two countries. 
 
 The keep of horses costs infinitely less at Paris, 
 than in London. 
 
 Poultry is cheaper; and wine of the lest kind 
 may be bought for something more than we pay 
 for good port. 
 
 On the other hand, house rent is equally dear, 
 if not dearer. Furniture is exorbitant; and dress 
 of all kinds, both for men and women (only 
 excepting shoes and gloves) is, beyond compa- 
 
 * Persons going to Frrvnce ought to know, that, the ex- 
 cliange being at present against England, we regularly lose 
 from Jixe to seven per cent on the money drawn from the 
 latter country. This loss must of course be added to the 
 talculaiion of expenses on the continent.
 
 270 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 rison, dearer in price, and more expensive in it? 
 kind. 
 
 The price of amusements, in the first places, 
 is nearly the same at the large theatres of 
 Paris, as at those of London ; and spec- 
 tacles^ being infinitely more frccjuented at the 
 former than in the latter city, much more is 
 spent, in this article, in the one than in the other 
 capital. 
 
 Groceries are dearer, and fuel at least double. 
 Putting these articles, the one against the other, 
 perhaps with economy eleven hundred pounds in 
 Paris might purchase as many conveniences as 
 twelve in London. But I think even this diffe- 
 rence is liberally allowed. 
 
 Having given this rough calculation of family 
 expenses, 1 shall proceed to sjieak more parti- 
 cularly of those of a foreigner, or temporary 
 resilient. On this point I can be more positive, 
 having experience for my guide. 
 
 A job carriage and pair of horses cost from 
 tu'enty to twenty two louis per month, according 
 to the manner in which you ar^ served. A pair 
 of horses, v/ithout the hire of a carriage, may 
 be had for fifteen or sixteen louis per month. In 
 both cases the coachman is paid by the jobman ; 
 but the former expects a trifle, as a mark of your 
 approbation. 
 
 A " laquais de place"' asks four, but will take 
 three, livres (or half a crown Lnglish) per day.
 
 LETTER XXXr. ^71 
 
 Apartments vary so infinitely In price, accord- 
 ing to the part of the town where they are situ- 
 ate, according to the number of rooms wanted, 
 according to the height of the floor, and, above 
 all, acording to the bargain made by the indi- 
 vidual wanting tliem, that it is very difficult to 
 fix any thing like an average. I shall only say, 
 generally, that I think a single man may be 
 well lodged (at a price proportioned to the ac- 
 conmiodation which he requires) from five to 
 twelve louis per month ; and a family of two or 
 three persons, with as mau}^ servants, from twelve 
 to thirtv louis. 
 
 A '^ trait cin^"' will supply a dinner at six livres 
 (or five shillings) per head ; but the fare will nei- 
 ther be very good, nor very abundant. 
 
 Wine, cf the best quality, if taken from the 
 " traitcur,'' or the master of thie hotel, will 
 cost from five to six livres the bottle. The same 
 may be had from a wine merchant at about 
 half the price. I ought to add, that it is not 
 expected here, as in England, that the wine 
 should necessarily be ordered from the person 
 M ho supplies your table. 
 
 The price of washing is greater than in Lon- 
 don; and the english ladies complain much of 
 tliC manner in which it is executed. 
 
 Fuel is immensely dear. A " voie de bois," 
 or load of wood, the contents of which one fire 
 will consume in ten days, costs about thirty two 
 
 5
 
 272 LETTER 3SXI. 
 
 or thirty tliree livres (making about twenty six 
 or twenty seven shillings english.) 
 
 About nine livres (or seven shillings and six- 
 pence) are paid for admittance in the first places 
 for each person at the ''opera," at " le th^atie 
 de la Feydeau," and at " le theatre de la rue 
 Favart ;" at the "theatre francois" six livres, 
 twelve sols, (or five shillings and sixpence eng- 
 lishj and in the little theatres, half a crown, or 
 three shillings. I cannot give the prices exactly, 
 as they vary according to the manner in which 
 you go to the play-house. In taking a box, 
 more is paid for each ticket, than what is other- 
 wise paid simply for the admittance of each in- 
 dividual at the door. 
 
 Clothing is very expensive. A plain frock of 
 superfine cloth costs from four louis to five and 
 a half, according to the fashion of the tailor : 
 and I am told, that ladies' muslins are at least 
 four times dearer thaa in London. 
 
 About lodgings, it is very necessary that those 
 ivho intend visiting Paris should make previous ar- 
 rangements. The hotels are not so numerous as 
 before the revolution; and the difficulty of get- 
 tins: well accommodated is much o-reater than any 
 one, who has not been here, can possibly con- 
 ceive. Great advantage is also taken of the 
 situation of strangers, who arrive (unprepared) 
 at one of these houses with post horses, the 
 drivers of which are always impatient, and very
 
 LETTER XXXI. 27S 
 
 often impertinent, if you detain them long in 
 seeing rooms, or go to several hotels, before you 
 are settled. 
 
 To enable you and your friends to form some idea 
 of themeritsoftlie different hotels, and accordingly 
 to give directions to your correspondents, I will add 
 a list and short account of the most celebrated. 
 
 " L'H6tel dc Grange Bateli^re, rue de 
 Grange Bateli^re," in the Chaussee Dantin, 
 (where Lord Cornwallis lodged) is a large and 
 .spacious house, in which there are many hand- 
 some apartments. It has also the advantaire of 
 a line and extensive garden. I think I have 
 heard, that tiie charges here are rather high. 
 The situation of the house is excellent; adjoin- 
 ing the Boulevard, nearly opposite " la rue de. 
 ■ la Loi (or de Richelieu),'" and in that part of 
 the town, which is now esteemed the most fashion- 
 able. 
 
 "LTIotel dc r Empire," rue Cerruti, (for- 
 merly the i)rivate house of M. la Bordc, the 
 kings Banker) is much frequented by the eng- 
 lis]]. It is of course expensive. The high lejHitation. 
 •which this hotel enjoys, induced me to go there 
 on my first arrival. I was much disappointed. 
 I (Hd not find cither the lods^inors orood, or the 
 cooking very superiour. The principal apart- 
 ment is certaiidy very splendid, the price of 
 which is ninety louis per month ; but the other 
 rooms have nothing very particular to recom- 
 
 T
 
 S74 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 mend them. Every kind of refreshment is found 
 in the house, and charged by tlie article, as at 
 the liotels in London, and at about the same 
 prices. 
 
 This house is also in the " Chaussee Dantin." 
 and not far distant from '* V Hotel de Grange 
 }3atcli/^re. " 
 
 In the '•' rue de la Loi," (or '' de Richelieu ") 
 there are several hotels ; but the situation, 
 though extremelv central and convenient, has 
 the disadvantage of being very noisy. The 
 upper part of the street, near the Boulevard, is 
 the most agreeable ; and in that position are 
 '' r Hotel de 1' Europe," and " l' Hotel des 
 Etrangers." They appear good houses. I know 
 nothing of their character. 
 
 "■ L' II6tel d' Angleterre, rue des Filles de 
 St. Thomas," very near the " rue de la Loi," 
 has been inhabited by several English this winter. 
 The charges are said to be expensive. The 
 situation is convenient ; but it is noisy, and 
 surrounded by houses. 
 
 " L' Hotel des Etrangers, rue Vivienne," 
 very near the " rue de la Loi," and the *' Palais 
 Royal," is also in the centre of the town. This 
 house I hav^e heard more generally commended 
 by those who have lodged there, as to its prices, 
 accommodations, and kitchen, than any other at 
 Paris ; but I cannot say I like the street where 
 irt stands, which is both close and dirty. 
 
 5
 
 LETTER XXXr. 2/5 
 
 " V Hotel de Miraheau, rue de HeldeVy'' 
 is in a new street, near the Boulevard. It seems 
 a good house. 1 do not know its character. 
 
 The two hotels, the situation of which is the 
 most agreeahle, being both near the Boulevard, 
 the Thuilleries, and the Champs Elisees, are 
 " /' Hotel de Courlande, place Louis XF, (or 
 de la Concorde"'), and " /' Hotel des Etrayigers, 
 rue Royale (or de la Concorde.'' The former 
 is part of that fine building, the " Garde 
 Alcuble, " and stands in tiie most beautiful 
 '' place," or square, of Paris. The windows 
 command a delightful view of the ''place," the 
 bridge, the river, the Thuilleries, and Champs 
 Klisees. The house is newly furnished, and 
 only lately oj)ened. I am sorry to add, that it 
 consists but of few apartments ; but those which 
 there are, are elegant and spacious. The prices 
 arc extremely high. I was asked forty louis 
 a month for a second floor. 
 
 'J1ic other house, I mean " I Hotel des Etran- 
 gers; rue Royale (or de la Concorde)" standing 
 in a very wide street, which runs from the 
 Jioulevard to "la place Louis XV," has C(iual 
 advantages as to the neighbourhood of all the 
 public Malks, with the hotel of which I spoke 
 last ; but it dot s not command the same view. 
 I am forced also to mention, having lived two 
 months in the hou-ic, that the landlord is a very 
 
 T 2
 
 27^ LETTER XXXI. 
 
 insolent fellow, and his wife, if possible, more 
 impertinent than himself. 
 
 There are three small hotels, called, " V Hotel 
 dt Galk;' " /' lUtd des Qitinz Vwgts,'' and 
 " /' Hotel de Carousel,'' all in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of the palace of the Thuilleries, 
 of wliicli each conmiands a view. A single man 
 would be agreeably lodged at one of these ; but I 
 should not suppose, that there was sufficient ac- 
 commodation at either for a family consisting of 
 several persons. 
 
 In the " Fauxbourg St. Germain,''^ the hotels 
 formerly frequented by the english either exist 
 no more, or have lost their reputation. Those 
 only which are of any repute in this part of the 
 town, seem to be " /' Hotel de Rorfie, rue Sf. 
 Dominique,'' where there are several handsome 
 apartments, more remarkable for their size than 
 their cleanliness; and " /' Hdtel de Marengo," 
 in the same s'.reet, and next door to the former. 
 The lodgings of the latter are good; but some 
 friends of mine, who lived there, complained 
 much of the disagreeable state, in which they 
 found the beds. Both these hotels have good 
 -wardens. 
 
 *' X' Hotel de Caramont,''' in the same street, 
 belonging to the ci-devant comte of that name, 
 tliou^h not an '' hdtel garni^'" is let in apart- 
 ments, the greater part of \\ hich wtre occupied
 
 LETTER XXXI. 277 
 
 first bv Mr. Jackson, and afterwards bv Mr. 
 Meny. The rooms are delightful; but it rarely 
 happens, that any are vacant. I forgot to 
 mention, that there is also in this ftrect a small 
 hotel, called. '' V Jlotd de Jura;' which is well 
 furnished, and has a pretty garden. 
 
 The houses, which I have enumerated, are 
 those which are the most known, the best situate, 
 and the most esteemed. Beside these, there are 
 '' r Hotel de J'auhan;' " r Hotel de Congrh;' 
 and " /' Hotel de la Grand Bretagne;' all situate 
 in " la rue St. Honort;' and said to be respect- 
 able houses. For those also who do not ob- 
 ject to be surrounded with bustle and noise, 
 " r Hotel dc la Chancelleries' near the " Palais 
 Royal," will offer good accommodations. I am 
 told, the apartments there are uncommonly ele- 
 gant, and extremely spacious*. 
 
 To this account I muft add a wco-^^n'e recom- 
 mendation of la rue Tra-cersillrc, in which there 
 are several hotels, and into wljich the windows of 
 some in la rue de la Loi also look. A perpetual 
 
 * I have heard, since I left Paris, that a very line house, 
 formerly belonging to a nobleman, and known by the name 
 of " /' Hotel (Ic Beauxeau," has lately been opened as an 
 " h6td garni," and assumed the title of " Hutcl dc Prince 
 dc Gallc" It stands in " la Hue Fauibourg St. Jlonun," 
 noarly fronting one of the avenues to the Champs Elisccs. 
 In spring the situation must be very pleasant. It is at a 
 considerable distance from the theatres, but in a most re- 
 spectable part of the to^vn. 
 
 T 3
 
 27S LETTER XXXI. 
 
 market, with all tlie attendant smells, renden 
 the houses in "la rue Traversiere" extremely un- 
 pleasant; and the same reason obstructs the 
 passage, so that it is difficult, in a carriage, to 
 find one's way to any door in this street. The 
 caution is the more necessary, as postboys 
 frequently recommend the situation. 
 
 There is some objection to almost every hotel ; 
 I cannot, therefore, recommend any one ; but, 
 were I to visit Paris again, 1 think I should 
 either try *' /' Hotel de Courlande, place Louis 
 XV,'' the situation of which is incomparable; 
 '' /' Hotel de Grange hatelitre,'" which, in 
 accommodations and size, is superior to any 
 house of the same kind; or " /' Hotel dcs 
 Etrangers, rue Plviemie,'' which is universally 
 well spoken of by those who have inhabited it. 
 
 As to the " traiteurs," or persons who supply 
 you with dinners, they sometimes belong to the 
 house where vou lodo-e, and sometimes not. 
 
 I tried several during my stay at Paris, and I 
 found them all so bad, and so uncertain, that, 
 were I to return, I would either hire a cook, or 
 dine constantly at the house of a " restau- 
 rateur*." The most celebrated are, Naudit, 
 and Robert, in the Palais Royal, Beauvillier 
 in the rue de la Loi, and Verry in the garden 
 of the Ihuilleries. Besides the public room, 
 
 * " Restaurateurs" are tavern keepers, where dinners are 
 served.
 
 LETTER XXXI. 279 
 
 wliich is always elegantly ornamented, there is, 
 at each of these places, seveial small i^uoms, or 
 cab'mets, for private parties. A long- bill of 
 fare, called " la carte," consisting of all the 
 delicacies of the season, and eveiy variety of 
 wine, with the prices afhxed to each article, is 
 handed to you, and the dishes are no sooner 
 named, than they are instantly served. The 
 apartments are tastefidly decorated, the linen and 
 plate are particularly clean, and the waiters civil, 
 attentive, and mcU dressed. The cooking is 
 incomparable. Ladies, as well as gentlemen, 
 dine at these houses, and even in the public room 
 several of the former are always present. On a 
 rough calculation, the expense of dining at one 
 of the first restaurateurs, including a fair quan- 
 tity of the best wine, varies from twelve iivres 
 (ten shillings) to a louis each person. 
 
 There are, however, inferiour houses of tlii; 
 kind, where, even for trcnt-sLv sols (or eighteen 
 pence english) a dinner of several dishes, and a 
 bottle of wine, are allowed. Ab I never tried 
 one of these economical repas, I cannot speak 
 of the fare they afford. A returned " abbd^' 
 assured me, that he dined in this manner " i1 
 7ncrvcillc ;'" but, notwithstanding his authority, 
 I should scarcely recommend a hungry english- 
 man to make the experiment. 
 
 In concluding my account of hotels and 
 traiteurs, 1 must repeat my advice to you^ to 
 
 T 4
 
 £80 LETTER XXXT. 
 
 inake a previous bargain for whatever you may 
 want. In Paris, no tradesman has a settled price; 
 and shopkeeper or landlord, who has the most re^ 
 spectable appearance, is not to be trusted. 
 
 An englishman, who, from delicacy, omits to 
 offer a smaller sum than that which is asked, may 
 be certain, that be makes a present of at least 
 fifty per cent to the person oF whom he pur- 
 chases. In every line of trade the same system 
 is pursued ; and even in buying books and plate, 
 I have known one fourth of the original demand 
 taken. 
 
 Strangers ought to be particularly careful, 
 how they deal with the " marchands" of the 
 '* hotel garni" where they lodge. They are a 
 tribe of people, who, under the recommendation 
 of the landlord or porter, to whom they pay a 
 regular commission at the expense of the tra- 
 veller, knock perpetually at his door, and, with 
 the utmost importunity, insist on showing the 
 different articles of their trade. What they sell 
 is always dear, generally out of fashion, and 
 frequently damaged. 
 
 In calculating the expenses of Paris, much 
 will depend on the manner in which an indi- 
 vidual lays out his money; and I am certain, 
 that if a good manager and a thoughtless young 
 snan were, during a winter passed in Paris, to 
 order exactl}' the same articles, and were after- 
 wards to compare their disbursements, a differ-
 
 LETTER XXXT. 281 
 
 ence would appear hi the result, of nearly one 
 half. It must be remembered also, that *' milord 
 ii7iglais' (as tlicy call every englishman) is sup- 
 posed to be so very rich, and so lavish of his 
 treasures, that he is rather flattered than offended 
 by the largeness of the sums which he is called 
 ui)on to pay ; and, ^\ hile a conscientious trades- 
 man is satisfied with askiu"- of another fbrei";ner 
 about forty or fifty per cent beyond the value of 
 his goods, he fails not to demand double of him, 
 whom, by his accent, he discovers to be a native 
 of that happy island, in which frenclimen be- 
 lieve, that gold is as commoii as the air we 
 breathe. 
 
 V/ith these remarks, thrown out as a necessary 
 caution, I shall conclude my subject; and, mean- 
 ing to write to you once again, befcrc I leave 
 Paris, I shall, for the present, bid you adieu. 
 
 I am, &p.
 
 ( 282 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXII, 
 
 General view of Paris, principally taken as compared with 
 
 London. 
 
 Paris, maj-the 14th, 1802 (24 floreaL) 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 rrAVING in my former letters endeavoured to 
 give you some idea of the particular objects of 
 greatest curiosity, I shall, in this last, take a ge- 
 neral view of Paris, principally as compared with 
 London. 
 
 I shall begin with re mark in, 2:, that of all the 
 foreigners of different nations, who frequent this 
 city, the eno-li^h are those \vho are least satisfied 
 with its pleasures, its occupations, and its man- 
 ners. For this many reasons may be assigned. 
 •The nations of the continent have, in the first 
 place, in their mode of living, a kind of general 
 resem])lance, \diich qualifies them more for do- 
 mesticating (if I may be permitted the expression) 
 in a country not their own than we have. ' A ger- 
 man, an italian, a russian, or a swede has been 
 accustomed at home to the french kitchen, or at 
 least to a bad imitation of its dishes: his habits, 
 his fashions, and even his literary pursuits have 
 been formed on the model of the french : and if 
 he has lived in a court, the french language has also
 
 LETTER xxxir. 283 
 
 been, from infancy, as fiimiHar to liiin as his own. 
 Verv different is the situation of an eno-lisliman. 
 lie finds himself, on landing at Calais, in a new 
 world, and In all the ordinaiv occuircnces of life, 
 his habits are to be fresh modelled. 
 
 The cleanliness, so generally prevalent in Eng- 
 land, not only in private houses but likewise in inns, 
 taverns, and hotels, is seldom met with on the con- 
 tinent, and it is necessary for the traveller to lay 
 aside Ids best customs, and niost excusai)le pre- 
 judices, befoie he can become tolerably easy. 
 
 To breakfast and dine in a bedroom, to eat 
 with the same knife of every article, to have the 
 bed made bv a man, and otlier indelicacies too 
 gross to mention, are little misfortunes to which 
 an english gentleman submits with regret, and a 
 lady with real pain. Ihe numerous but scanty 
 dishes which crowd a french table, among which 
 a joint of plain roasted meat seldom appears, cloy 
 without satisfying the appetite of those who have 
 been used to simpler but more substantial food. 
 The M'ine, aUo, notwithstandiirg its high repute, 
 seldom seems strong enough or of sufficient body 
 for such as are habitual chinkers of port, though, 
 when the latter has been for some time discon- 
 tinued, the taste becomes disagreeable. The 
 familiarity of servants and waiters (though less 
 than before the revolution), is still disgusting 
 and oflensi\e. The necessity of bargaining, even 
 at the most respectable shops, for the com
 
 284 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 monest articles of mercliandize, renders the pur- 
 chase of them very unpleasant. These circum- 
 stances, however trifling, occur too frequently in 
 the course of every day, not to have a consider- 
 able eifect on the serenity of John Bull. Ac- 
 customed only to his own language, he is either 
 totally ignorant of the french, or speaks it with 
 difficulty, hesitation, and fear. He is tormented 
 with the frequent visits% which he is expected 
 
 * '\^i:-.its. — It is the custom, in all parts of France, and 
 particularly at Paris, to receive and pay perpetual visits. 
 Tlie whole of every evening is passed in a routine of tHis kind 
 (when the spectacle offers no irresistible temptation) ; and a 
 Parisian bdle was, the oilier (hiy, quite astonished and dis- 
 gusted, when I fold her, that in England ladies seldom re- 
 ceived the visits of young men — " Quelle vie ennuyeuse (ive 
 rot re vie de Londrcs !" exclaimed the fair one; " qu'on doit 
 passer dcs tristes journccs f Que peut elle faire, une mal- 
 heureuse anglaise, apres diner ?" 
 
 " Elle va aux asscmblees ou a Topera — Mais si elle est 
 malade ? 
 
 " Elle reste chez elle." 
 
 *' Qvoi toute seule ! que ro.9 dames sont a pluiiidre ! Que je 
 me JcUcite d'etre francoise ! Sana les lisites de quelques amia 
 choisis, je mourrois d'cnnui." 
 
 What a dull life must your english manners afford ! What 
 dismal days must one pass in such a country ! \Vhat can a 
 poor english lady do after dinner? 
 
 She goes to assemblies, or to the opera. 
 
 But if she is ill — 
 
 She stays at home. 
 
 What (juite alone ? Oli, how I pity your poor english 
 ladies! Oh, how I rejoice at being boru a frenchwoman!
 
 LETTER xxxir. 285 
 
 to pay; and tlie custom of leaving the table im- 
 mediately after dinner, seldom allowing- time for 
 more than one or two glasses of good wine, com- 
 pletely destroys the original good nature of his 
 character. 
 
 I have recapitulated these little distresses, as I 
 am convinced they sour the temper, and have a 
 considerable influence on the unfavourable judg- 
 ment often pronounced by my countrymen. I 
 do not pretend myself to be superiour to such 
 weaknesses, and mention the circumstance, that 
 too implicit credit may not be given to the opi- 
 nions of one capable of being biassed by "trifles 
 light as air." I must be permitted, however, to 
 observe, that there are reasons of a much more 
 serious nature, which make the english less easy 
 to please than other foreigners. We come from 
 a country, where all the arts are carried to a 
 degree of perfection, at least equal tb what is 
 attained on tiie same objects in France, and 
 where, in many things, the ingenuity of our ma- 
 
 without the visits of a few well chosen friends I should die of 
 (/uuii. 
 
 Notwithstanding this passion for receiving and returning 
 ▼isitt; among one another, the french are frequently neg- 
 ligent in this respect towards the foreigners who are re- 
 commended to them. I have heard english ladies at Paris 
 complain, that their visits were often not returned at all, 
 and that early attention was rarely shown as to this little 
 ctiqvette, which well bred persons in England are so careful to 
 olserve.
 
 28(7 LETTER xxxir. 
 
 nufacturers is unrivalled. In science and lite- 
 rature Ave have not been compelled to look from 
 home; and while we now admire the manv distin- 
 guished writers which France has produced, they 
 are not our only models, and with Locke and 
 Xewton, Milton and Shakspeare, we cannot pay 
 that unbounded homage to the genius and learning 
 of our neighbours, which they are apt to demand. 
 The freedom and excellence of our constitution 
 accustoms us to a degree of unrestrained conver- 
 sation, seldom met with at Paris ; and the gene- 
 ral diifusion of wealth in London, has introduced, 
 among all orders, a degree of comfort which is 
 seldom found even in the proudest houses of the 
 ireneh capital. 
 
 The beauty of our women, and the delicacy 
 of their behaviour, render us less enthusiastic 
 admirers of parisian belles, and parisian fashions, 
 than the stran^'crs of other countries. 
 
 The perfection to which the stage has advanced 
 in London, and the splendid manner in which 
 our theatres are lighted, prevent our being greatly 
 struck with the renowned spectacles of this place; 
 and the taste, profusion, and magnificence, dis- 
 played in our private entertainments, oppose too 
 powerful a contrast to the gayeties of Paris, to 
 allow us to be much delighted with the latter. 
 Our race of horses, and our manufacture of 
 carriages, arc both too perfect to render it pos- 
 sible for u< to admire the wretched equipages,
 
 LETTER xxxri. 287 
 
 which are here considered as the acme of ele- 
 gance. It is equally impossible for us to praise 
 the gardens of the ThaiUcries, the Champs 
 Klisees, or the Bois de Boulogne, as long as we 
 remember Hyde park or Kensington gardens. 
 Nor can the lighting and paving of Paris excite 
 the admiration of those Mho have been used to 
 the comfortable trotiolr and brilliant lamps of 
 the streets of London. 
 
 Ha\ing thus stated the reasons, good and bad, 
 for the tameness with which englishm?n often 
 speak of Paris, I shall endeavour to divest my- 
 self, as much as possible, of national prejudice, 
 and to lay before you the advantages and disad- 
 vantages attendant on a residence in this cit}". 
 
 In respect to literature, the arts and sciences, 
 certainly every opportunity is offered which 
 knowledge can afford, or which a zeal for letters 
 can desire. In this respect, I think, Paris is su- 
 periour to London. Besides the immense ac- 
 (juisitions which it has lately made, and the great 
 and wonderful collections that are constantly 
 open to the public, there are so many private in- 
 stitutions within the reach of men of n^.odcrate 
 fortune, that this city would soon rival all the 
 universities of Europe, did not the pleasures of 
 the place hold out temptations dangerous to the 
 morals of youth. 
 
 Literary men also are more respected than in 
 England; and, instead of abandoning- society
 
 ^88 LtTTER xxxir. 
 
 (which is too much the case with men of learning 
 ill oLir country), the incUistrious, but unprotected 
 tVenchman, who engiges in the career oF letters, 
 finds his wav into the most brilliant circles of the 
 capital. Even the haughtiest of the old nobility 
 admit into their most intimate coterks, those 
 ■who have attained any literary fame, however 
 low their origin, or however mean their appear- 
 ance. On this head, I give unqualified and un- 
 rivalled praise to Paris. 
 
 Whether a foreigner could profitably pursue 
 any commercial speculation here, it is not for me 
 to inquire. I shall only observe, that, notwith- 
 standing the laws of equality, prejudices exist as 
 strongly as ever at Paris ; and could a fortune be 
 accumulated here as rapidly as in London, that 
 fortune would never purchase the respect and 
 consequence with which a similar acquisition is 
 attended in England. A merchant (or " nego- 
 ciant, " to use the french expression) is still au 
 insignificant character in this town, and all the 
 M'calth of India would not place him on a 
 level with a general, a minister, or a ci-devant 
 noble. 
 
 A man of pleasure, or rather of dissipation, 
 may, in all the joys of unbounded variety, de- 
 stroy his liealth, vitiate his principles, enervate 
 his mind, and ruin his fortune. To the rich, 
 however old, ugly, or deformed, beauty will not 
 refuse her smiles; and every assembly is open to
 
 LETTER xxxir. 289 
 
 hiin wiio, in the morning, Avill convey "matlame" 
 to milliners, jewellers, and lace merchants, and 
 will devote his evenina^s to the boulotte* of 
 
 ** monsieur." 
 
 The politician, or in other M'ords, he who is 
 anxious to become acquainted witii the real 
 causes of the present order of things, and to 
 examine to their source the many-coloured events 
 which have preceded it, will be much disappointed. 
 The greater number of those who took an active 
 part in the revolution, have been swept away in 
 the general torrent ; the ^c\v that remain, are 
 either living in obscurity, and cautious of ex- 
 pressing their opinions, or become, like other 
 apostates, as violent on one side as they were 
 formerly on the other. Of course, no satisfac- 
 tory information is to be derived from them. Ai 
 to the general bulk of the nation, passive under 
 the iron tyranny of that sanguinary monster, 
 llobespierre, they preferred, at that time, the 
 accidental hope of individual escape, to the ge- 
 nerous and braver conduct of a bold resistance. 
 They are still the same people; and, now that 
 their tranquillity and private happiness are se- 
 cured, they look on in perfect apathy, a. .1 Cif 
 the term wcvq not too rash) I should aua, in 
 sulky content. 
 
 * Bouhfte is a gambling game much played at Pari?, and 
 suid lo be the support of several familits.
 
 290 LETTfiR XXXII. 
 
 Should Fiance be deprived of Bonaparte, a 
 circumstance which frenchmen of all parries allow 
 would be at present a great national misfortune, 
 I have no doubt that obedience would be quietly 
 and generally yielded to whatever party should 
 seize the reins of power. It is universally al- 
 lowed, thai tiiere is no security beyond the life 
 of the first consul* ; yet no one proposes, and I 
 am sure no one thinks of providing against an 
 event, which, in the order of nature, must sooner 
 or later arrive. You cannot, living in England, 
 form an idea of the indifference prevalent here 
 about public matters. 
 
 The time of Robespierre, or "la regne de la 
 terreur," as it is commonly called, is often the 
 subject of conversation, and it is mentioned with 
 as much disgust and horror as in other countries ; 
 yet it never seems to occur to any one, that in 
 having been the tacit spectators and instruments 
 of the murders committed at that lime, the inha- 
 bitants of this country were parties to his crimes. 
 But it is perhaps absurd to complain of the pre- 
 sent want of feeling, when we recollect the 
 
 • This was, of course, -written before the late cbar.ges in 
 the governmpnt, which appear to provide against this events 
 I leave the remark unaltered, as, in the nrst place^ this pro- 
 vision comes not from the people, but from- the first consul 
 himself. Secondly, this arrangement is only on paper, and 
 if it last the life of Bonaparte, will scarcely be respected after 
 his death.
 
 LETTER XXXII. iiyl 
 
 Strange unconcern with which, under the imme- 
 diate terror and view of the guillotine, the per- 
 sons confined in the different prisons, while they 
 awaited their turn ol* cruelty, engaged in every 
 sort of frivolous amusement. I have hcen as- 
 sured, by those who M'ere themselves in custody 
 at that unhappy period, that toilets were made, 
 parties planned, cards played, scandal talked of, 
 assemblies arranged, and little jealousies enter- 
 tained, in the very caverns of death. More than 
 one person was taken from the dinner table, or 
 the game of chess, to the place of execution. 
 From a nation so strangely indifferent to its 
 dearest interests, what intellio-ence can vou ex- 
 pect to collect ? If you ask a question relating to 
 those dreadful moments, instead of a simple an- 
 swer of facts, you receive a violent philippic 
 against the memory of a man, too infamous even 
 to deserve the honours of abuse. If you make 
 an inquiry about the present constitution, you 
 are laughed at, and, pour toute rcpotise, are 
 told, " C'est Bonaparte (jui fait tout — tout lui est 
 soumis — tout lui est possible.*" 
 
 A gentleman and his wife, proposing to visit 
 Paris, particularly if they happen to be attached 
 to each other, and have no decided rank, ought 
 carefully to provide themselves with all the letters 
 
 * It is Bonaparte who does every thing — every thing i« 
 Submitted to him — every thing is possible for him. 
 
 u S
 
 $92 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 of recommendation which they can possibly 
 obtain, if they wish to be admitted into any 
 of the houses of the parisians. They must re- 
 member, that every thing is calculated in this 
 town, and that, if the female traveller will not 
 conciliate the masters of families bv her smiles, 
 nor her husband by presents and attentions to 
 the ladies, no door will be opened which is not 
 forced open by the imperious command of some 
 person, on whose power and interest the party 
 depends. With the most insignificant title, or 
 the lowest order of chivalry, something may be 
 done, for these add to the splendour of an as- 
 sembly; but without these advantages, and with- 
 out vice, foreigners live but dully m this gay 
 city. An english lady, of superiour talents, ob- 
 served to me one dav, with o-reat truth, that she 
 never discovered that her title of " countess" 
 was of any use, till she entered the territory of 
 the french republic. I ought also to mention, 
 that it seldom happens in this country, that a 
 person, to whom a stranger is recommended, 
 thinks it necessary to present him to another. 
 Of course, the number of acquaintance will not 
 exceed that of the letters with which a foreigner 
 is favoured. It may be doubtful, whether all of 
 these will be attended to ; but, at any rate, the 
 houses of those to \vhom he is addressed will 
 form the limits of his society. Families coming 
 here with children, will have great advantages
 
 LETTER xxxir. 293 
 
 in procuring tliem education. Masters in every 
 science, and in every language, may be had at 
 a very easy expense. The only antidote is the 
 temptation to pleasure. Under a certain age, 
 jio place can be so well suited to the purposes of 
 instruction. 
 
 Having taken a hasty view of the different 
 situations in which this town may be visited, I 
 shall conclude my subject by enumerating in 
 what I conceive London is superiour to Paris, 
 and in what Paris is superiour to'London. 
 
 In vndth, cleanUness, and beauty, the streets 
 of London have such a decided advantage over 
 those of Paris, that I believe even a frenchman 
 would acknowledge, that the question could not 
 be disputed. The footpaths of the former, on 
 which the pedestrian may walk without danger 
 or dirt; the excellent pavement, which prevents 
 any fatigue from being experienced in the use of 
 a carriage; and the brilliance of the lamps at 
 night, which renders the passage, in an evening, 
 from one part of the town to another, rather a 
 pleasure than a pain, are but ill contrasted by 
 the narrow and filthy lanes of the latter, iu which 
 persons on foot are constantly exposed to every 
 kind of accident and iucGnven,ience ; to the neg- 
 lected carriage ways, in moving over which in- 
 dividuals are bruised, and wheels rapidly worn 
 out , and to the dismal and uncertain hglit, which 
 a few lanterns, hung by cords suspended from the 
 
 u 3
 
 ^g4f LETTER XXXII. 
 
 opposite houses, faintly affords. But if the 
 streets of Paris must yield to those of London, 
 thi former city is undoubtedly superiour in its 
 palaces and public buildings, and in the height, 
 style, and architecture of private houses, the 
 stone fronts, regular plan, and lofty dimensions 
 of which, have a very commanding appearance. 
 But though the edifices are finer, and the ar- 
 rangement more convenient, each floor con- 
 sisting of a corripletc set of rooms, yet, from their 
 great size, it usually happens that the same 
 house is inhabited by several families, and the 
 stairs, consequently, becoming public, are a? 
 dirty and as disgusting as the common streets. 
 Where too an individual keeps an entire house 
 in his possession, the number of his servants is 
 rarely proportioned to the size of his habitation, 
 and either only a part is occupied, or the whole 
 is neglected and in bad order. 
 
 I cannot help adding, as a singular circum- 
 stance, that notwithstanding the extensive and 
 superiour scale on which private hotels are built 
 at Paris, I have selrom seen open, at an assembly 
 here, either as many rooms, or those of such 
 large dimensions, as are met with, on similar 
 occasions, in families of rank and fashion iu 
 London, ihe reason of this apparent contra- 
 diction, perhaps, is this, that as but one floor 
 (vdicther others belong to the same person or 
 i;ot) is generally made use of, the bed roon^s,
 
 LETTER XXXII. 295 
 
 offices, and anticliamber, occupy too large a 
 space to allou' inuch extent for the apartments 
 devoted to the reception of company. From the 
 opposite reason, it often happens that a house 
 in London, of moderate size, has several large 
 rooms, in which a numerous society may be 
 entertained, though these rooms are scattered on 
 different floors. 
 
 In respect to furniture, the houses of the 
 " parvenus'' are elegantly and splendidly fitted 
 up. Most of the other private hotels have re- 
 ceived little improvement, repiir, or alteration, 
 since the beginning of the revohition, and are 
 consequently not very remarkable, either for 
 freshness or novelty of taste. Carpets are not 
 common; and though the beds are generally 
 better, and in a more ornamental form, tiian. 
 those usually seen in England, and the antique 
 shapes are most classically imitated in the de- 
 coration of these, and in the chairs, ov fauteuils; 
 yet, in other respects, I think our modern man- 
 ner of fitting up houses has the advantage over 
 that which generally prevails at Paris Ma- 
 hogany, so commonly used in England for dinner 
 tables, is seldom applied to that purpose in 
 France; and, as the cloth is never removed, they 
 are made of deal. En revajiche it forms, in* 
 stead of gold, the frames of satin furniture; and 
 the walls of drawinq; rooms are often ornamented 
 with that wood. I cannot say, I admire ma^ 
 
 u 4
 
 Q9^ LETTER XXXII. 
 
 hogany thus employed; but this is entirely a 
 matter of taste. Plate glass is, of course, very 
 superiour, and infinitely more common in the 
 decoration of rooms than in England; yet, with 
 this exception, and a few others, I think our 
 apartments in London are more completely fur- 
 nished, are much cleaner, and have many little 
 comforts which are wanting in those of Paris. 
 Some particular houses here do, indeed, present 
 models of taste, profusion, and luxury, un- 
 equalled by any of ours ; but the number of these 
 is very trifling, and alters but little the general 
 result. 
 
 The eating rooms of french houses are very 
 disgusting. Instead of the comfortable turkey 
 carpet, handsome curtains, stuccoed v/alls, blaz- 
 ing fire, and ornamented sideboard, of a London 
 parlour, the dinner is here served in a dark and 
 gloomy apartment, called " la salle a manger/'' 
 imperfectly heated with a stove, the floor gene- 
 rally of stone, and always without a carpet, the 
 windows without curtains or shutters, and the 
 whole dirty and uninviting. Where there is not 
 a separate antichamber, the servants occupy the 
 dining rooms in the absence of their masters; 
 and, in that case, the smell, which such company 
 g-re apt to leave, is extremely offensive. 
 
 Of the assemblies I have already spoken. Ex" 
 cepting a great ball given by madame Recamier, 
 where there was a crowd of three or four hundred 
 
 1
 
 LETTER, XXXIl. 5257 
 
 persons of different classes, with only a stand- 
 ing or scindiiich supper, and a superb fete given 
 by monsieur de Diniidotf, a rich russian, I have 
 heard of no very numerous party. The balls ge- 
 nerally consist of from fifty to a hundred people. 
 Those at which 1 was present, appeared rather 
 calculated to show the dancing and dress of the 
 Jadies, than to promote general gaycty or diver- 
 sion. In splendour of costume, and in graceful 
 movements, our entertainments of this sort must 
 yield to those of Paris; but in general mirth, in 
 decorations, in supper, and biiliiancy of liglit, 
 the comparison is decidedly in favour of the for- 
 mer. The constant fluctuation also which takes 
 place in London, from tlie number of engage- 
 ments of each individual, gives a variety which is 
 wanting in a trench party, at which all the in- 
 vited pass their whole evening. 
 
 The thcs, which answer, in some respects, to 
 our card parties, arc infinitely less in number 
 than the latter. The conversation of the former 
 U, undoubtedl}^, on subjects more worthy of oc- 
 cupying the attention of jational beings, than the 
 senseless cliit chat of our fashionable coteries. 
 It is onlv to be rc^-rcttcd, that the desire of 
 speaking on literary subjects with eclat, so gene- 
 rally prevalent at Paris, not unfrecjucntly dege- 
 nerates into pedantry i^nd affectation. Hence 
 the tasteless coiner of pomj^ous sentences is often 
 piistaken for a man of genius; and the chattering
 
 298 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 ostentatious coxcomb is admired, while the 
 silence of modesty, and the reflection of ^ood 
 sense, expose those in whom they are discovered, 
 sometimes to ridicule, and always to neglect. 
 The conversation too, is commonly monopo* 
 Used by a few, and the rest of the company 
 yawn a\\'ay their evening uninterested and unin- 
 teresting. Oil this suhject the higher classes, of 
 both countries, might improve, by observing the 
 feults of each other ; those of England, in ren» 
 cleringthe topics of their conversation less trifling; 
 and those of France, by letting ideas, instead of 
 expressions, occupy their attention. 
 
 The concerts here arc dull and tiresome enter-r 
 tainments, which last five or six hours uninter- 
 ruptedly. Young ladies are often the principal 
 performers, and admired rather in proportion to 
 their rank and fashion than to the harmony of 
 their voice, or the scientifical proficiency which 
 they have made in the study of music. As we 
 have generally in London the first italian masters, 
 and the most distino-uished sino-ers, I conceive 
 that our amusements of this sort must be supe- 
 riour to those of Paris. 
 
 Of the spectacles I have fully spoken in a for- 
 mer letter. I shall, therefore, be as concise as 
 possible at present. The opera of Paris is supe- 
 riour to that of London in dancing and decora- 
 tion; but the latter, in point of brilliance, gayety, 
 Tnusic, beauty, and elegance of company, has
 
 LETTER XXXII. f.9$ 
 
 such an advantage over the former, that it may 
 be justly said to be, in the language of Shakspeare, 
 " Hyperion to a satyr." As to the play-houses, 
 the comic performers in France possess a degree 
 of extraordinary merit, and of professional skill, 
 which I do not conceive any theatre of Europe 
 can equal; but if they have attained a higher 
 point of perfection than our actors in that line, I 
 think our tragedians as decidedly exceed the french 
 in simplicity of diction and of manner, in the just 
 representation of human passions, and, above all, 
 in taking nature for their guide, which, in assum- 
 ing the buskin, the latter seem entirely to forget. 
 As to the general state of the spectacles as public 
 places, thos£ of London are infinitely gayer, but 
 those of Paris more orderly, and less subject to 
 riots, indecency, and disturbance. 
 
 The walks, or promenades, of both these great 
 cities, are delightful. Ours have the singidar 
 merit of being pleasant even in winter; and, be- 
 sides, our large streets, the footways of which, 
 even after rain, are soon dry, with the gar- 
 dens of our various squares and inns of court, 
 St. James's and Hyde park offer constant and 
 beautiful spots for exercise. At Paris, there are no 
 trottolrs ; and the Thuilleries, Champs Elis(:es, 
 and Boulevards, are almost impassable lor foot 
 passengers in bad weather. When the spring 
 begins, the scene changes, and this city then 
 jboasts some charming gardens, which I have al-
 
 300 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 ready enumerated, and which are well frequented. 
 In my opinion, however, there is nothing here to 
 be compared either with Hyde park or Kensington 
 gardens. 
 
 For excursions round the town, the neighbour- 
 hood of London seems to afford more variety and 
 picturesque views than that of Paris; but the vi- 
 cinity of both cities is very beautiful. 
 
 The hours of the two capitals are now fo 
 nearly alike, that it is unnecessary to draw a 
 comparison between them. No genteel family 
 at Paris dines before four or five o'clock, and 
 some persons not till six or seven. Tlie this 
 begin about nine, the balls at twelve, The 
 theatres commence at seven, and are generally 
 over between ten and eleven. 
 
 The shops of London, as well as every kind of 
 trade and manufactory, are so decidedly supcriour 
 to those of Paris, that it would be ridiculous to 
 make the subject a question of doubt. There 
 have been, however, some very elegant " ma- 
 gazins'" (or shops) lately opened in la Rue de 
 la Loi (ci-dcvant de Richelieu), particularly 
 that of M. le Roi, and another called " laMaison 
 de la Providence," nearly opposite la Rue de 
 Feydeau. 
 
 Plackney coaches are a convenience which both 
 these cities enjoy in great perfection. Those 
 of Paris have improved so much since the re- 
 volution, that I conceive them now to be su»
 
 LETTER XXXII. 501 
 
 periour to ours, both in carriages and horses. 
 The fare for one distance (or " com^se,'') M'he- 
 ther long' or short, provided it be within the 
 gates of Paris, is thirty sols (or one shiUing 
 and three-pence enghsh). There are, besides 
 these, " cabriolets,^' or open carriages, con- 
 stantly plvino- which are not only good, but uu- 
 commonly elegant. They are equal to the best 
 appointed gigs of private persons in London. 
 The horses are fleet, and the drivers civil. The 
 fare is soi^'nethino: more than that of a " fiacre," 
 or hackney coach. 
 
 The '* hotels gam is" are not so good or so 
 numerous as they were formerly; but I think 
 them still better than our houses of the same 
 kind in London. There is also a privacy in a 
 frcnch apartment (the outward door of each 
 making a distinct habitation), which gives it a 
 decided advantage over the lodgings of an english 
 hotel. 
 
 The public rooms and private cabinets of 
 " restaurateurs," are certainly more elegantly 
 fitted up than the apartments of our taverns or 
 coffeehouses. The cooking of the former is 
 better, and presents a much greater variety of 
 dishes, and the affixed price to each article, makes 
 the price of a dinner depend entirely on the 
 choice of him by whom it is ordered. 
 
 As to society, that material ingredient in the 
 happiness of man, of which every one who has
 
 502 LETTER xxxir. 
 
 a head or heart, feels the vast importance, I con* 
 ceive that foreigners arriving either in London or 
 in Paris, without pressing recommendations or 
 exalted rank, may be much embarassed, and 
 may in both places pass months and even years, 
 without making one proper acquaintance. Yet 
 it appears to me that there is this great and dis- 
 tinguishing difference between the manners of 
 the two capitals, that a person properly intro- 
 duced to a few families of fashion in London, 
 will rapidly find his way into every society which 
 he wishes to frequent, whereas, in Paris, how- 
 ever well individuals may be received in one or 
 two of the most esteemed houses, that circum- 
 stance will not contribute to their introduction to 
 any others, and if a strange/ arrives with a certain 
 number of recommendations, he may, after a six 
 months residence, quit Paris without having in- 
 creased the list of his acquaintance. I speak on 
 this subject from experience. Besides a near re- 
 lation of my own, two or three families* long 
 
 * Among the old friends of my family, 'from whom we re- 
 ceived particular kindness, I i;hall be pardoned for naming 
 madame (la ci-devant comtesse) d'li — t, so frefjuently men- 
 tioned m the confessions of Jean, Jacques, and the real model 
 on which he formed his imaginary Heloise. We had the 
 pleasure of passing some days at her country seat, in the 
 valley of Montmorency, and several evenings at her hotef^ 
 at Paris. This accomplished woman, who at the age of 
 thirty, had the talent to attract, and the virtue to resist the 
 affection of Rogsseau, has ttill at seventy, that amiability of
 
 LETTER XXXII. SOS 
 
 connected with mine, have still establishments 
 here, and live in the best company of the 
 
 place. By all of these Mrs. and myself 
 
 were well and hospitably received, but the per- 
 sons whom wc met at their houses, neither paid 
 us visits, or in other refpccts showed us the most 
 trifling civilities. 
 
 Madame de St — 1, is the only new acquaint- 
 ance to whom we are indebted for a polite and 
 hospitable reception, which indeed every foreigner 
 of character is sure to find at lier house, wliich 
 on account of the public characters often seen 
 there, on account of the rational conversation, 
 and general gaycty which always prevail, and 
 above all, on account of the distinguished wit 
 and universal politeness of '* madame," is the 
 most agreeable of Paris. 
 
 Having thus drawn a comparative statement of 
 the advantages and disadvantages of these cities, 
 principally viewed as places either of study or of 
 
 manner, that suavity of disposition, and that fund of en- 
 lightened conversation, wliich, notwithstanding the disad- 
 vantages of a person far from handsome, gained her the 
 love of that extraordinary man. The latter has been very 
 unjust in the character which he has drawn of the hubband 
 of this lady. lie is still living, and is a respectable man of 
 ancient family, indepenJcnt fortune, and irreproachable re- 
 putation. St. LamlHit, the Thomson of France, resides with 
 Mr. and madame d'll — t, and his extreme old age receives « 
 from tlieir attention tlie comtorts and kindness of unvarying 
 £rAPndship,
 
 304 LETTER xxxrr. 
 
 amusement, I shall be excused for adding a few 
 words on the state of charitable institutions, 
 though they do not immediately form part of 
 my subject. 
 
 Our hospitals and asylums for suffering poverty, 
 are too well known, and stand on too high a basis 
 to require any eulogium from me. I am happy 
 to add, that those of Paris have not been neg- 
 lected during the united horrors of war and re- 
 volution. A respectable pljysician (not a french- 
 man) assures me, that even during the most 
 barbarous moments of the sans-uinary Robes- 
 pierre, these useful establishments were not aban- 
 doned. By a strautare contradiction, while virtue 
 and innocence were daily dragged to the scaffold, 
 misery here found a refuse from the agonies of 
 pain, and the menaces of disease. These insti- 
 tutions are now kept up with liberality, and every 
 possible attention. Besides several others the me* 
 dical gentleman in question particularly praises 
 *' I'Hotcl Dieu, rue du IMarche Palu," where 
 from fifteen hundred to two thousand sick per- 
 sons receive the advice of the ablest physicians, 
 and are treated with the most delicate care. The 
 government, and the persons particularly entrusted 
 M'ith the management of this establishment, show 
 the most laudable zeal in its support. *^ L'ilos- 
 pice St. Louis" is an excellent appendage to tins, 
 to which those M'hose complaints are contagious 
 are immediately removed. He next commends
 
 LETTER XXXII. 305 
 
 " rilospice tie la Pitie, rue Fosses St. Victor," 
 behind " /e Jardhi des Plantes'' the refuse of 
 distressed innocence, in whicli two thousand chil- 
 dren of soldiers, who died in the service of their 
 country, are rescued from misery, and conifort- 
 ahly supported. " L'Hospice de St. Sulpice, rue 
 de Sevres," originally built by madame Necker, 
 in which one hundred and twenty sick, and eigh- 
 teen wounded persons are relieved. " L'llospice 
 des Incurables," where the doom of these un- 
 happy wretches is softened by an extensive gar- 
 den ; and " I'Hospice de la Salpetriere," built by 
 Louis XIII, and maintained at present in all its 
 original grandeur. The building is fine, present- 
 ing a majesticyi/a/^/f, and its boundaries are so 
 extensive that it is almost a little city. Here six- 
 teen hundred girls are employed in making linen 
 and in working lace. Old married men, young 
 women affected with madness, and female ideots 
 here receive those little comforts, of which their 
 respective situations still allow them to partake. 
 
 Requesting you to pardon this digression I shall 
 conclude my subject with a few short observations 
 drawn from my former remarks. 
 
 To those who arc fond of tlic arts, and who 
 devote their time to the pursuit, Paris offers ob- 
 jects of great interest and unequalled beauty. 
 Persons who pass their lives in a career of dissi- 
 pation, who are satisfied with public amusements, 
 bouS'lit pleasures, and high play, will find here, 
 
 X
 
 506 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 decked in all the joys of variety, the means of 
 gratifying- their favourite wishes. To such as 
 come to view the curiosities of the place, Paris 
 will appear delightful during a residence of two 
 or three months, as that time will be fully and 
 agreeably occupied in examining its various insti- 
 tutions, and in visiting its different theatres, parti- 
 cularly if the traveller arrives in the beginning of 
 spring, when the charms of nature are added to 
 those of art. But to him M'hose attachments are 
 centred within the circle of his own family, who 
 is fond of the investigation of truth, and whose 
 early days have been passed in the polished so- 
 cieties of London, Paris, after its great and 
 striking beauties have once been sufficiently view- 
 ed, will appear comparatively tame, dull, and 
 uninteresting. He vv^ill daily miss the freedom 
 of conversation, Mhich is so generally prevalent 
 in England ; he will look in vain for that manly 
 sense, with which great national questions are dis- 
 cussed bv men of education in London, he will 
 be irritated by the flippancy of french politicians, 
 and by the pedantic terms and laboured sen- 
 tences, which take the place of sound argument 
 and solid reasoning. He will find the amuse- 
 ments rather various than splendid. He will find 
 society difficult when it is good, and dangerous 
 when it is easy*. He will admire the grace 
 
 * There are innumerable houses at Paris in which, with 
 every appearance of respectability, and often with tiie assist- 
 
 1
 
 LETTER xxxri. 307 
 
 and elegance of the ladies, and will look with an 
 eye of pity, if not of contempt, on the indelicacy 
 of their dress. He Mill hear " la bonne com- 
 pagnie" talked of in every set, and never df^fined. 
 He will perhaps at last discover that it only ex- 
 ists, M-here it does not assume the name, or as 
 Voltaire says, 
 
 " Qui ne s'appelle pas la bonne oompagriie, mais qui Test." 
 
 He will view with wonder and admiration the 
 works of art, and see with no iirtle pleasure and- ^ 
 curiosity the extraorchnary man now at the head 
 of government. Such will be his principal sources 
 of satisfiction at Paris. He will soon discover 
 that every thing else, however blazoned out in 
 the trappings of grandeur, or vamped np in the 
 colouring of hyperbole, is only " air and empty 
 nothing." 
 
 Adieu, my dear sir, I propose setting out to- 
 morrow niornino- fur Lvons and Switzerland. 
 You will, therefore, not hear from mc again till 
 1 am far distant from tliis capital. I came here 
 big with hope, and eager in expectation. I re- 
 
 aiice of some lofty sounding title, the unwary stranger often 
 finds his ruin. Amidst the smiles of beauty, the splendour 
 of foreign orders, tlie J!)Uity of wine, and the gaiety of 
 dancing, youth loses its prudence, and one evening's enter- 
 tainment is paid by the loss of that fortune, on wliich a man's 
 happmess, and perhaps that of many dear relatives de- 
 pended. 
 
 X 2
 
 308 LETTER xxxir. 
 
 joice at having undertaken the journey, as it has 
 afforded me much useful information, but I leave 
 Paris without regret, and with but little desire of 
 
 a speedy return. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 THE £SD.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Advocates - ... 223 
 
 Affaire manquee, definition of the term - 44 
 
 Albani, Francesco, his paintings » 32 
 
 Amiens - - - « 5' 
 
 Ancienne noblesse, account of - 55^ 57 
 
 '■■, a ball of - • 140 
 
 Antiquities, cabinet of « • I6 
 
 Apathy of the french people - - 179 
 
 Apollo Belvidere - - - - l5, 18 
 
 Arabian horses - - - . 202 
 
 Archbishop of Paris - - - 217 
 
 ■ of Thoulouse - - 218 
 
 Artistes, theatre des jeunes - • 130 
 
 Athenee - - > . 255 
 
 Aveyroii, savage of - - - 109 
 
 B. 
 
 Bagatelle, garden of - - - 231 
 
 Ball, a public - - - 90 
 
 Ball, a private - - - 140 
 
 Ballets - _ . . . 123 
 
 Bargains, necessity of making them - 280, 283 
 
 Beggars ... 5 
 
 Berthier, general - - . i^g 
 
 Bendette, paintings of - - - 31
 
 310 INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Blind, Institutions for the - - i03 
 
 Boissy d'Anglass _ - . ^q 
 
 Bois de Bologne - - - 175^ 228 
 
 Bonaparte, first consul, account of - 81, 158, l6l 
 
 •, court of - - 159 
 
 ^— , dinner with - 247 
 
 Bonaparte, niadame - - 43, igg 220 
 
 , Lucien - - - j88 
 
 Boulevards - - - - 229 
 
 Brun, le, the third consul - _ _ ^p 
 
 , Charles, paintings of - - 23 
 
 Burgoing, mademoiselle - - - 116,117 
 
 Calais - . _ . 2 
 Caravaggio, Miclrael Angelo Amerigi - - 34 
 Cardinal legate - - - 217 
 Carnival - - - - 152 
 Carracci, Agostino - - - 33 
 , Lodovico _ . - S3, 173 
 , Antonio - - - 33 
 
 -, Annibale 
 
 Carriages - - - 177,209,211 
 
 , job - - - 270 
 
 Castiglione, Gio Benedetto, his paintings - 31 
 
 Cavedone, James - - - 35 
 
 Champagne, Philip of -^ - *- 25 
 
 Champ de Mars - ' - - 237 
 
 Champs Elisees . _ - 228 
 
 Chantilly . - - - 7 
 
 Clajssens, Anthony -^ -. - 25 
 
 Clotilde, mademoiselle - - - 124 
 
 Cloud, St. - - - - 192 
 
 Comparison between London and Paris - 282 
 
 Concert of the bhnd - - - 304 
 
 Conciergerie - - - - 225
 
 INDEX. 311 
 
 Page 
 Concordat - - - - 188 
 
 Contat, madeuioiselle - - - 118 
 
 Cornwallis, lord - - - - 67 
 
 Corregio - - - - 35 
 
 Costume of dress » . _ 92, ijS 
 
 Cosvvay, ]Maria, copying the principal pictures in the 
 
 Museum for prints - - - 15 
 
 Court of Bonaparte - - - I59 
 
 of madame Bonaparte - - 18S 
 
 Criminal law _ _ - _ gS-l 
 
 D. 
 
 Dancers _ _ - - 
 
 Dances - _ - - 
 
 Dancing - - 
 
 Deaf and dumb _ - - 
 
 Dessein's hotel - - - 
 
 Dinner with Bonaparte 
 
 Domenichino . - - 
 
 Douaine at Calais 
 
 Dover - - - - 
 
 Duel, frivolous occasion of one 
 
 Dress . . _ - 
 
 Durer, Albert - - - 
 
 Dutch school of painting 
 
 Dyck, Anthony Van 
 
 , Philip Van 
 
 E. 
 
 Ecole Militaire ... 23S 
 
 Edouard en Ecosse ... 145 
 
 Eleves, theatre of - - - J 31 
 
 Elephant, account of - - - 26i 
 
 Emigres, their conduct to the english - 57, 58 
 
 Enfans trouves - - o 236 
 
 X 4 
 
 123, 
 
 190 
 
 95, 
 
 142 
 
 
 144 
 
 
 69 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 247 
 
 - 
 
 35 
 
 
 a 
 
 - 
 
 1 
 
 
 633 
 
 93, 
 
 176 
 
 
 25 
 
 
 ib. 
 
 26, 
 
 173 
 
 
 27
 
 312 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 English language most simple and natural in its 
 
 construction - - - 70 
 
 Engravings, cabinet of - - - ^ 253 
 
 Exorbitant demands at Versailles - - 198 
 
 Expenses at Paris ... * 266 
 
 F. 
 
 Fashions - - • - 176 
 
 Ferrari, Gandertio - r - 36 
 
 Fete for the peace - - - 40 
 
 Feydeau, theatre . - - 125 
 
 Fire arms, manufacture of - - - 195 
 
 Fireworks - - - - 50 
 
 Fitzjames, the ventriloquist - - 132 
 
 Flemish school of painting - - - 25 
 
 Fleury, the actor - - ■ 119 
 
 Fond, la - - - - ll6 
 Footmen, english, publicly forbidden to wear laced hats 1/8 
 
 Fournisseur, assembly at the house of a - 137 
 
 Fox, Mr. opinion entertained of him, as an orator, in 
 
 french society - - - 78 
 
 French school of painting - - 23 
 
 Frescati - - - - 231 
 
 Furniture of the houses in Paris " 60, 295 
 
 G. 
 
 Gallery of paintings - •» 11, l66 
 
 of statues - - - l6 
 
 Galvanism explained by Massieu, deaf and dumb 1C6 
 
 Gambling houses - •• * 99 
 
 Gardens of Paris - - 228, 229 
 
 Garden, national, of plants - - 260, 26l 
 
 Genevieve, St. - • - 182 
 
 Gens d'armes - - - - 2l6 
 
 German school of painting . - 25 
 
 Germain, St. . _ - - 203
 
 INDEX. 513 
 
 Page. 
 
 Globes - - ^ - 250 
 
 Gobelins - - - - 235 
 
 Governmental class of society - . 55 50 
 
 Guards, consular - « „. 
 
 Guercino, paintings ef . . 37 173 
 
 Guides, les - . . . ^.g 
 
 Guide, paintings of • - -» ■Sff 
 
 Guillotine - - . .225 
 
 Gj^zeu, Peter - - - - gf 
 
 H. 
 
 Hameau de Chantilly - , _ _ 
 
 Harpe, la - - - . g^g 
 
 Hayes, de - - . j^q 
 
 Henry, the Fourth, original manuscript of - 252 
 
 Henry, madame - - « ,07 
 
 Holbein, Hans, paintings of - '27 
 
 Horses - - - 177^ 202, 270 
 
 Horsemanship, exhibitions of - _ 2 01 
 
 Hospitals - - - , 3Q^ 
 
 Hotels - . . - 5, 272 
 
 — — — , list of the best in Paris, and their prices 273 
 Houses, description of an elegant Parisian house - 60 
 
 , expense of - . . c^dj 
 
 I & J. 
 
 Jets d'eau at St, Cloud 
 '■ at Versailles 
 
 193 
 
 Iliununations, description of, at Paris - 47, ng^ 220 
 
 Indifference in the trench people - - 179 
 
 Inns - - - - 3 
 
 Institute, national - - - 259 
 
 Institution for the deaf and dumb - '6^ 
 
 •— ■ for the blind - • 103 
 
 "■■ ■ ■ ■ - fur iei enfaas trouves - - 236'
 
 S14 INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Introduction to Bonapatte - - 158 
 
 Invalides ..-.-- - - 23S 
 
 Italian opera .- - - - 42, 128 
 
 Italian school of painting - - - 31 
 
 Judges of the tribunals - - 222 
 
 Justice of a_juge de paix at Versailles - 1<)9 
 
 K. 
 
 ' - - 
 
 Kosciusko - - - ,-145 
 
 L. 
 
 Lanfranco - - - - 38 
 
 Laocoon, description of the statue - - 21 
 
 La partie de chasse de Henri IV - - 133 
 
 Laquais de place, expense of - - 270 
 
 Lectures, account of - - - 25S 
 
 Legislative body, account of its sittings - 63 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci, paintings of - - 38, 173 
 
 Lewis XIV, memoirs of his own times - 251 
 
 Libraries, want of circulating, in Paris - 264 
 
 library, national _ - - 250 
 
 ~ of the Pantheon - - 254 
 
 . des quatre nations - - 255 
 
 • Mazarine _ _ - ib. 
 
 —- of the institute - - . — . 
 
 — — — of the legislature, tribunate, senate, &c. — 
 
 Literature, advantages in the pursuits of, at Paris 249 
 
 Lodgings, price of - - 272, 273 
 
 London compared with Paris - - 282 
 
 Long Champ - - - - 205 
 
 Louvois, theatre - - - 127 
 
 Lo'uvre • - - - - 1 1 
 
 Luxembourg, palace of - - - 181 
 
 Lyceum - - - - - 2^55'
 
 INDEX, S15 
 M, 
 
 Page. 
 
 Malmaison . _ - - 203 
 
 Mamalukes - - - ,- 217 
 
 Manuscripts, cabinet of - - 257 
 
 Maria Cosway, her paintings and proposed engravings 1 5 
 
 Marley - - - - 203 
 
 Masquerade at Paris - - - 155 
 
 Massiey, deaf and dumb pupil of I'abbe Sicard 71. 105 
 
 Mauvais compagnie, definition of the phrase - 5* 
 
 Mazarine library . - - 255 
 
 Medals, cabinet of - - 251,253 
 
 Menagerie _ « - - 260 
 
 Military made use of on trifling occasions - 214- 
 
 Mineralogy, collection of - - 262 
 
 Mistakes of the french concerning english names 127 
 
 Moliere's plays - - - 120 
 
 Moliere, theatre de - - - 129 
 
 Montrirul - - - - 5 
 
 Monuments, collection of - ~ 242 
 
 Moreau, general - - - - 135 
 
 Morvel, - - - - 119 
 
 Mousseux, garden of - - - 229 
 
 Museum of arts - - - W, \66 
 
 ' of monuments - ^ - 239 
 
 N. 
 
 National institute - - - 259 
 
 National library _ _ - 250 
 
 New year's day kept at Paris - - 93 
 
 Noir, le - . - - 240 
 
 O. 
 
 Observatory . - - 23o 
 
 CEconomv of Paris . - - 26'7
 
 U$ INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 Opera, french » - . 123 
 
 Opera, Italian - - - 42 128 
 
 Orange, prince of, his introduction to Bonaparte 159 
 
 Orators, freach . . _ gp 
 
 P. 
 
 paintings, gallery of - - 
 
 , catalogue of 
 — — — at Versailles 
 — — — — restored 
 
 Palace floyal ... 
 
 — — of Versailles 
 ■ of Justice 
 
 Paatheon, description of 
 
 — — , library of -. 
 
 Paris, view of 
 
 — — , streets of - - - 
 
 f compared with London 
 Paevenues, or third class of society 
 Passports 
 
 Paul Potter, paintings of 
 Payne, of the York Hotel, Dover 
 People,, better behaved to their superiours since the 
 
 revolution 
 Pcttit,. inadame 
 Phantasmagorie de Robertson 
 Phyllis, mademoiselle 
 
 Plate glass, manufactory of - - 
 
 Police, their order 
 Pordenone, paintings of 
 Purtalis, account and speech of - 
 
 Poussin, Nicholas, paintings of 
 Price of posting 
 
 ■ of the various articles of life *• 
 
 of tickets for the play 
 
 11, 
 
 166 
 
 23, 
 
 169 
 
 
 195 
 
 - 
 
 167 
 
 - 
 
 99 
 
 - 
 
 195 
 
 
 222 
 
 
 182 
 
 - 
 
 254 
 
 183, 
 
 230 
 
 227, 
 
 293 
 
 - 
 
 282 
 
 5t 
 
 i, 60 
 
 
 3, 8 
 
 
 28 
 
 - 
 
 1 
 
 since the 
 
 
 . 
 
 6 
 
 - 
 
 U6 
 
 ■ 
 
 131 
 
 
 126 
 
 - 
 
 105 
 
 
 93 
 
 
 171 
 
 m 
 
 87 
 
 - 
 
 23 
 
 m 
 
 5 
 
 m 
 
 269 
 
 122, 268; 
 
 ,272
 
 INDEX. 
 
 317 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 Printing by the blind 
 
 103 
 
 Provision, price of - - 
 
 26'9 
 
 R. 
 
 
 Raphael, paintings of - - 
 
 38, 171 
 
 Recommendation, letters of, necessary 
 
 291, 292 
 
 Religion, reestablishment of 
 
 213 
 
 Rembrandt, paintings of 
 
 28 
 
 Restaurateurs 
 
 278 
 
 Restout, paintings of - 
 
 24 
 
 Review of troops before Bonaparte 
 
 81 
 
 Road from Calais 
 
 4 
 
 Rousseau, tomb of 
 
 186; 
 
 Rubens, pamtings of - - 
 
 29, 171 
 
 s. 
 
 Sacchi, Andrea, paintings of - - 172 
 
 Salon des etrangers - - - 92 
 
 Salvator Rosa _ - - 172 
 
 Savage of Aveyron - - - 1^9 
 
 Sevre, manufactory of - - - 193 
 
 Shakspeare, opinion of the french concerning him 77 
 
 Shorthand defined by a deaf and dumb youth 107 
 
 Sicard, abbe ... 69 
 Societies, literary and scientific - 249, 264 
 Society, state and classes of, in Paris • 53, 74 
 
 hpcctade, definition of the word - - 41 
 
 Spectacles, general account of - - II6 
 
 Stables of Chantilly . . ■ 8 
 
 of Versailles ... 202 
 
 Statues, gallery of - - - 16 
 
 Sueur, le, Eustache, paintings of - 24 
 
 Tallien, madame - - " 9^ 
 
 Talma. - - » - 11^
 
 SIS INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Taxes - •» - - 56 
 
 Tea assemblies .. » _ 74. 
 
 Temple of Mars - - - ' 23S 
 
 Tcuiers, the elder and the younger, paintings of 31 
 
 Texier - - - - 133 
 
 Theatre, general account of - - Ji6 
 
 — Comique, rue i'eydeau - - 125 
 
 ■ — de la Gaiete - - 131 
 
 — de i'Ambigu Comique - - 130 
 
 ■ de la llepubliqe et des Arts - 123 
 
 de Moliere - - - 129 
 
 i des jeunes Artistes - - 130 
 
 » des jeunes Eleves - - 131 
 
 - • du Marais - - ib. 
 
 ' Franfois de la Republique - - II6 
 
 Italian Opera - - 42, 128 
 
 . Louvois - - - 127 
 
 Montausier _ _ . i2<) 
 
 • sans Pretension ^ - 121 
 
 Vaudeville ... 126 
 
 Thuilieries - - - - 10 
 
 Tintoret, paintings of - - - 173 
 
 Titian, painungs of .... 39^ 170 
 
 TivoU,thc gardens of _ . - 232 
 
 Tom Jones, a french play - - - 127 
 
 Traiteurs, a list of the principal - - 278 
 
 Trial at Versailles . _ - 199 
 
 Trianon, le Grand - - - 203 
 ■, le Petit, Hotel at Versailles, exorbitant 
 
 charges - - - - 19^ 
 
 .. ■ , garden of - - 202 
 
 Tribunal de Cassation - r 223 
 
 • de la Police Correctionelle - ih. 
 
 Tribunals of justice ... 222 
 
 Tribunat, sitting of - - - 87 
 
 Turenne, tonjb of , - . 2i5, 247 
 
 Turnpikes - - 8
 
 INDEX. 319 
 
 Van Loo, Carlo, paintings of - » i;5 
 
 . , John Baptist, paintings of - - ib. 
 
 . , Lewis Michael, paintings of - — 
 
 Venetian horses at tlie gates of the Tlmilleries 1 1 
 
 Veronese, Alexander, paintings of •' - 38 
 
 L , Paul, paintings of - - ib, 
 
 Versailles - - - 192, 194> 
 
 \'estris - - - - 1()3 
 
 \"inci, Leonardo da - - - 3S, 173 
 
 Visits - - - 28"^ 
 
 \^ivacity wanted in french society - - SO 
 
 Volney, mademoiselle - '^ 116' 
 
 Voltaire, lomb of . _ - i86' 
 
 W. 
 
 ^yaIse, description of this (lajic« •^ - 142 
 
 Wild boy of Aveyron - - IO9 
 
 Y. 
 
 Y'jrk Hotel, Dover
 
 ^ ERRATA. 
 
 Page X4> !• J^7> for ^'5if/!r d'auvre, read f/i^/i cTauvrei' 
 
 •• Zi^ N°* 7I3> for occupation, read vocation. 
 
 45, 1. 21, for merits, rtad talents, 
 
 56, 1. 20, for public offices hereditary in their families, read public offices 
 
 which had become almost hereditary in their families. 
 —— 79, 1. 9, for c^est moi qui a tradult, read c'est moi qui at traJult. 
 
 91, 1. 3, for ce climate, read ff ilimat. 
 
 -.. 93, 1. 6, for nor, read or. 
 
 102, 1. 19, for Monteaussier," read Montansier." 
 
 ■ 105, 1. 6, the word illnejs ought not to have been in italics. 
 . 114, 1. 8, for that too, read thofe too. 
 
 119, 1. 21, for " Morvel," read " Monvel." 
 
 — — 159) '• ^^3' ^^"^ iount, read marquis, 
 
 160, 1. 13, for des Anglois, read d'Anglois. 
 
 171, No. 61, fur Justus, Lipsius, read Justus Lipsius. 
 
 182, 1. 8. for even, read ever. 
 
 184, 1. ij.for it was proposed to confer immortality by bufyiflg rn it.* 
 
 vaults, read it was propofed, by burying in iti vaults, :o confer immor- 
 tality. 
 
 - 195, note, 1. I. put on before tie. 
 
 —, — 203, last line, for moderate, read moderately, 
 218, 1. 9, for Thoulouse, read Tours. 
 
 1. 17, the words in the same pulpit, should be omitcei. 
 — — 224, 1. 19, for Seine, read la Seine. 
 
 231, 1. 10, for Prince de Conde, read Comte D'Artois. 
 
 — — 234, 1. 4, for infinitely, read much. 
 
 — — 246, 1. 9, for ftatues, read tombs. 
 
 2J7, 1. 8, for Perpignan, read Pompignan, 
 
 1. 18, iox piiblique," rend pu//lie." 
 
 260, 1. I. read " Colin d' Harl^ille." 
 
 — - 268, 1. 15, and note 1. I, read baignoir." 
 — — 280, 1. 3, after and, add the. 
 
 285, 1. 8, of the note, add that, after that. 
 
 — — 294, 1. I, for affords, read afford. \ 
 
 — — 303, 1. I, for having, read have. j> 
 
 3°7. '• 19- read Lyons, Switzerland, and Italy, 
 
 —— 318, 1. 18, read Montansier. . 
 
 G. WoodfaU, Printer, Paterjioatw-roir. y 
 
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