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A tour through some parts of France, Switzerland, Savoy, Germany and Belgium by Richard Boyle Bernard

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Majora minorane famae! HOR.
Say are they less or greater than report!




* * * * *

Skinner Street, London

* * * * *



Permit me to offer my most respectful thanks to Your Royal Highness, for
the honor you have conferred upon me, by permitting the following pages
to be inscribed to Your Royal Highness.

I beg at the same time to express my congratulations to Your Royal
Highness on the late glorious events, which have distinguished Your
Royal Highness's Government, which have restored to England the
blessings of universal Peace, and will render the present aera ever
memorable in History.

I have the Honor to be,
With the highest Respect,
Your Royal Highness's
Obliged and most obedient Servant,


* * * * *


Had the following Pages required the exertion either of superior
judgment, or of abstruse research, the Author is not sufficiently vain
to have submitted them to the notice of the Public.

They are therefore not recommended to the perusal of the critical
reader; as in fact, they contain merely the hasty observations suggested
by the scenes he visited in the course of his Tour, together with a few
occasional remarks, which he thought might be acceptable to the
generality of readers: since notwithstanding the late increase of
travellers, the numbers are still very great, who, being prevented by
business, or deterred by the inconveniences of travelling, from visiting
the Continent, might be disposed to pardon some inaccuracies, should
they meet with a small portion either of amusement or information.

* * * * *



Introduction--On the opening of the Continent--Departure from
London--Arrival in France--Different appearance of Things-Large
Bonnets--Custom House and Passports--Of Travelling in France--French
Dinners--Abbeville--Beauvais--Vines--Chantilly; its ruined
Appearance--St. Denis and its Abbey


Of the Approach to Paris--General Appearance of that City--Its
Bridges--Is inferior in Comfort to London--Settled at an
Hotel--Population of Paris--Its Markets--Badly supplied with
Water--Of its various Divisions and their Inhabitants--Palais
Royal--Gamblers--Police--English Papers--Rule to find one's Way
through Paris--The Tuilleries--The Louvre--Plans of Improvement


Visit to the Gallery of The Louvre and Museum--To the Luxemburg--To
the Royal Library--To the Palais des Beaux Arts--To the Church of
Notre Dame--To the Pantheon--Protestant Church and Congregation--Of
the Number of English in Paris--Column in the Place Vendome--Gobelin
Manufactory--Post Office--Botanic Garden--Lady and her Dog--Story of
Dr. Moore--Of the Character of the Parisians--Their Loquacity--Of
the Legislative Body--Heat of the Weather--Champs Elysees--Quarter
of St. Antoine--Of the Revolution--Of the Boulevards--Of the
Restaurateurs--Of Ladies frequenting Coffee-houses, &c.


The Invalides--Elevation of different Buildings--Buonaparte desirous of
Eclat--Champ de Mars--Place de Grenelle--Of the Plan of General Mallet
and his Execution--Visit to the Museum of French Monuments--Infidelity
of its Promoters--Of Colbert--Gardens of Tivoli--Great Numbers of
Military Officers in Public Places--Of the Capture of Paris by the
Allies--View of Paris from Montmartre--Vanity of the French--Their Love
of Novelty--The Emperor Alexander's Entry into Paris--Of the
Establishment of M. Delacroix--At the Tuilleries--Of the King--His
Regard for England--France still unsettled--Advice of Galba to
Piso--Curious Glass Stair Case--Of the French Theatres, and their
Italian Opera--Number of Bureau d'Ecrivains.


Visit to the Royal Palaces--St. Cloud--St.
Cyr--Malmaison--Versailles--Its Formality--Accuracy of Pope's
Description of the Old Style of Decoration--Comparison of Windsor
and Versailles--City of Versailles greatly
reduced--Trianon--Sevres--Porcelain Manufactory--Barrier of
Passy--Of the Harvest--Castle of Vincennes--Few private Carriages at
Paris--Great Numbers of Fiacres and Cabriolets--Attend at the
Foreign Office for Passports to leave Paris--Arrive at
Fontainebleau--Memorable for the Abdication of
Buonaparte--Reflections on the Captivity and Character of the
Pope--Reflections on Buonaparte--At Montereau; Battle near the
Town--Sens--Auxerre--Description of the French Diligence--Dinners,


At Avalon--Public Promenades--Number of Beggars--Villages and
Country Houses more numerous in Vine than in Corn Countries-Farming
in this District--Land Tax and Customs of Descent--Dijon--A large
and handsome City--Its Public Buildings--Company in the Diligence
increased by the Arrival of two French Officers--Their Political
Opinions--Advantage of the Diligence--Arrival at Dole--Battle near
Auxonne--Genlis--Poligny--Vin d'Arbois--Woods but without
Birds--Moray--English Breakfast--Resemblance to North
Wales--Magnificent View of the Lake of Geneva--Excellent Roads made
by Buonaparte--Visit to Ferney--Description of Geneva--View from its
Cathedral--Its Manufactures--Population--Territory--Determination to
visit the Alps; and not to go into Italy


Departure for Chamouny--Bonneville--Valley of Cluse--Cascade
d'Arpennas--St. Martin--Extravagant Bill--Proceed on Mules--Their
astonishing Safety--River Arve--Pont de Chevres--Cascade of
Chede--Extravagance of English Travellers very prejudicial--Lake of
Chede--Servoy and its Mines--Visited by the Empress Maria
Louisa--Glaciers des Bossons--Definition of Glacier--Of the Valley
and Village of Chamouny--Guides--Politics of the Savoyards--State of
Taxation--Ascent of Montanvert--Magnificent and awful Spectacle of
the Mer de Glace--Height of various Mountains, compared with Mont
Blanc--Simile from Pope--Return to Chamouny--Larch and Fir mixed on
these vast Mountains--Their Productions--The Valley continually
threatened with Avalanches


Leave Chamouny--Delightful Situation of Valorsine--Festival
there--Of the Savoyard Peasants--Anecdote from M. de
Saussure--Country difficult to travel through--Trient--Magnificent
View from the Fourcle--The French not so much disliked in the Valais
as their Cruelty deserved--Castle of la
Rathia--Martigny--Unsuccessful Attempt of two English Gentlemen to
ascend Mont Blanc--Less adventurous, we did not ascend Mount St.
Bernard--Cascade of the Pisse Vache--Number of Idiots and Goitrous
Persons in the Valais--Opinion of Mr. Coxe on the Subject--Opinion
of M. de Saussure--St. Maurice--Its strong Position--Roman Bridge
and Antiquities--Passports demanded here--Different Colour of the
Rhone here and at Geneva.


Bex--Industry of the Inhabitants of this Country--Their Cottages and
Wandering Lives--Salt Springs--Aigle--Growth of
Corn--Villeneuve--Agitated State of the Lake--Labours of the
Inhabitants often destroyed by the Fall of
Rocks--Chillon--Clarens--Vevay--Magnificent View from its Church--Of
General Ludlow--Lausanne--Its singular Situation--Its Antiquity--Its
Cathedral--View from the Church-yard--Population and
Manufactures--French Manners prevail here--Gibbon--Pope Felix V. a
singular Character--Reformation--Morges--Festivity there--Rolle--Its
Spa--Country Seats--Delightful Scene from the Garden of its Castle
in the Evening--Nyon--Chateau de Pranqui--Joseph
Buonaparte--Vines--Swiss Artillery--Copet--Anecdote of Md^e. de
Stael--Versoi--Return to Geneva


On the Introduction of History into Tours--Early Government of
Geneva--Reformation--Alliance with Berne and Zurich--A few Laws
peculiar to Geneva--Theatre--Town Hall--Permission obtained to
reside at Geneva--Lodging procured in Consequence--Fortifications of
Geneva not devoid of Utility--Views from the Ramparts--Maintenance
of the Allied Troops very expensive to Geneva--Regret of the
Genevese at the Destruction of some ancient Avenues by them--Meet a
Person who gives a melancholy Account of the State of Geneva under
the French--State of Society--Fete de Navigation--Dress,
&c.--Epigram by a Prince of
Hesse--Rousseau--Voltaire--Raynal--Remarks of a Savoyard
Peasant--The College of Geneva--The Library--Of Calvin--Water
Works--Society of Arts--Corn Magazine--Churches, Service, &c. at


Excursion to the Perte du Rhone--Magnificent Spectacle which it
affords--Rise of the Rhone--Hop Gardens--Malt Liquor badly
made--Climate of Geneva--Of Switzerland in general--Opinion of
Haller--Soil, Grain, and Population of Switzerland--Quantities of
Cattle--Various Plants--Visit to a Watchmaker's Warehouse--Its
elevated Situation--Great Ingenuity, but want of what in England
would be thought good Taste--Circles of Genevese--Introduced to a
French Gentleman who bad twice escaped the Guillotine--Walks and
Rides--Junction of the Rhone and Arve--Coligny--Carrouge--St.
Julian--Battle there--Inferiority of the Austrian Troops to the
French--French Politics--Empress Maria Louisa--Lord Castlereagh at


Regret at leaving Geneva--Lake of
Joux--Coponex--Robbers--Lassera--Curious Separation of a
Rivulet---Orbe--Face of the Country--Price of Land--Yverdun--Sea
View--Spa--School--Anecdote of a Conductor--Game--Bridge of
Serrier--Neufchatel, said to resemble Naples--Description of its
Territory--Anecdote respecting the Religion of Landeron--David
Riri--Sketch of the History of Neufchatel--Competitors for its
Sovereignty--Lake of Bienne--Island of St. Pierre--Singular
Government of Bienne--Great Change on passing the Pont de
Thiel--Charge of Rapacity against the Swiss--Pleasant
Travelling--Extensive View from Julemont--Agriculture--Arberg


Morat--famous for Kirschwasser--Monument commemorating the Defeat of
the Burgundians removed by the French--Its
Inscription--Seedorf--View of the Island of St. Pierre--Beauty of
the distant View of Berne--Its Interior also handsome--Its
Fortifications--Stags and Bears kept in the Trenches--Public
Library--Botanic Garden--Chemists' and Bakers' Shops--Convicts
chained in the Streets--Beautiful Public Walks--Government of
Berne--Opinion of Pope--Excursions to Hofwyl and Hindelbanck--Extent
of the Canton of Berne--Its Population, Productions, &c. &c--State
of the Clergy--Departure from Berne--Village of Worb--Saw
Mill--Bleach Greens--Care which the Swiss take of their
Horses--Sumiswald--Little Wooden Inn--Zell--Castle of
Haptalla--Irrigation--Beautiful Situation of Lucerne--Its Melancholy
Interior--General Pfiffer's Model--Beautiful Lake--Mount Pilate and
Rigi--Visit two Classic Spots--And the Small
Canton--Gersau--Intolerance--Lake and Canton of Zug--Swiss
Honey--Magnificent View of Zurich, described by
Zimmerman--Considerations on the Difference between the Swiss
Cantons, &c


Zurich--Its Interior not answerable to its distant
Appearance--Population, Buildings, &c.--Dinner at the Table
d'Hote--Excursion on the Lake--Country and Villages near
Zurich--Winter there--Cascade of Lauffen--Its magnificent
Effect--Cyder--Bad Vintage--Schaffhausen--Its
Bridge--Population--Laws--Manufactures, &c.--View of Mount
Banken--Chapsigre Cheese--Swiss Tea--Set out in the Diligence with a
Doctor of Leipzig--His uncommon Love of Smoking--Civility, Dress,
&c. of the Germans--Deutlingen--Pass the Danube--Taste of the
Germans for Music, preferable to the political Arguments of the
French--Passports--Subdivisions of Germany--Trade--Posts well
conducted--Accident at Bahlingen--House of Hohenzollern


Tubingen--Its University--Different from ours--Agree to post to
Frankfort--Of German Posting, and
Dinners--Feather-beds--Stoves--Stutgard--A handsome City--Palace,
its Decorations--Industry of the Queen--Council Chamber--Royal
Stables--Garrison composed handsome Troops--Palace at
Ludwigsburg--Waggons and Traffic on the road--Heilbron--Escape from
being overturned--Sinzheim--Cossaok arrives there--Heidelberg--Its
Castle--Venerable in Ruins--The Inn--Rich Country--Quantity of
Potatoes--Manheim--Regularly built, but much deserted--The Palace in
Decay--Walks--Darmstadt--Unfurnished and ill
situated--Palace--Handsome Gardens--Frankfort a Magnificent
City--Inns--Opulence of its Merchants--Population--Jews--Gates and
Hochheim--Rhiagau Wines--Mayence--Its Strength--Handsome only
at a Distance--Its Bridge--Cathedral--Population--Exportation of
Corn--Large Cabbage


Embark on the Rhine--Political Rhapsodies of two
Frenchmen--Beautiful Scenery--Gulph of Bingerlock--Blighted state of
the Vines--Most distressing to the Inhabitants--Boppart--'God Save
the King'--Bonfires--Size of Paris and London--St.
Goar--Coblentz--Royal Saxon Guards--Ruins of
Ehrenbreitstein--Andernach--The Devil's
House--Lowdersdorf--Linz--Bonn--Illuminations, Balls, &c.--End of
the Picturesque Scenery--Boat driven on Shore--Walk to Cologne--A
vast and gloomy City--Simile of Dr. Johnson's--Few Country Houses on
the Rhine--Rubens--His excellence as a Painter and his great
Modesty--Juliers--Aix la Chapelle--Its Antiquity--Waters--Pleasant
Situation--Population not equal to its
Estent--Burscheid--Manufactures of Cloth, &c.--Cathedral--Sunday ill
observed--Liege--A large and extremely dirty
City--Booksellers--Cutlery--Distress of the
Manufacturers--Thieves--Bad Money--Expeditions Public
Carriage--Axiom of Rousseau--St. Tron--Chimes--Tirlemont, its much
reduced Manufactures


Population of the Netherlands--Louvain--Its Public
Buildings--University--Character of the Belgians--By some
represented as the worst in Europe--That Statement probably
overcharged--Extortion--John Bull at Paris--French Kitchens,
&c.--Breweries--Roads--Taste in Gardening--Canals not an agreeable
mode of Travelling--Heavy Taxes--Unsettled Political State--Vast
Numbers of English at Brussels--Its Extent, Population and
Appearance--The Park--Anecdote of Peter the Great--Town
House--Churches--Collections of Paintings--Anecdote of
Bassano--Hotels--Table d'Hote, like the Tables at
Cheltenham--Expence of Living--Houses--Jurourin--Forest of
Sogne--House of Correction compared with ours--Walk round the
City--Fortified Towns--Sieges of Ostend, Valenciennes, Troy and
Azotus--Malines--Considerations on its Decline--Its
Silk--Population--Buildings--Manner of cutting the Trees near the
Roads--Antwerp, its Importance--Docks--River--Riches of
Belgium--Buildings at Antwerp--Accuracy of the Flemish
Painters--Appearance of the Country--The Inns not equally decorated
with those in Germany--Wooden Shoes


Ghent--Its great Size--Decreased in Populalation and
V.--D'Arteville--Canals--Trade--Buildings-Prison--Land and Water
Travelling--Ostend and Bruges--Derivation of Bourse--Noisy and
Silent Travellers--Proficiency of Foreigners in English--Taste in
Bonnets--Sportsmen without Game--Courtray--Dogs Drawing--Boundary
Stone of France--Custom House--Passports, Danger of being
without--Lille--Fortified by
Residence-Remarkable View from
Cassel--Berg--Fens--Canals--Dunkirk--First Impressions--The Origin
of its Name--Buildings and Population--Flemish Language--Of the
Union of Belgium with France--Political Consideration--Dunkirk sold
by Charles II.--Lord Clarendon's House so called--Its Fortifications
demolished--Gravelines---Its strong Situation--Liberty and
Equality--Cheap Travelling--Calais the last English Possession in
France--Contrary Winds--French Officers displeased at the
Theatre--General Jealousy of England--Embark on board a French
Packet--Loquacity of the French--Arrival in England--Its Superiority
to other Countries

* * * * *

&c. &c.

* * * * *


I had long been desirous of visiting the Continent, but the long
continuance of the war, and the little prospect which lately appeared of
its termination, seemed to afford no chance for the accomplishment of my
wish. At a period, however, when that arbitrary power, which had so long
held in subjection the other nations of the Continent, sought to
overthrow the only monarch who dared to oppose it, and to claim for his
subjects the natural rights from which they had been excluded by the
"_Continental System_," it pleased Divine Providence to destroy the
fetters which enslaved the nations of Europe, as if to try, whether in
the school of adversity, they had learned to merit the blessings of
independence. These great and glorious changes, the reality of which it
was at first _difficult_ to believe, having opened to the subjects and
commerce of Britain, countries from which they had been for so many
successive years proscribed, it was not long before numbers of British
repaired to the continent to indulge that love of roving for which they
had been always distinguished (and which a long war had suppressed but
not eradicated) and to claim from all true patriots, in the countries
they visited, that friendly reception to which the long perseverance and
vast sacrifices of England, during a struggle unexampled in history, had
so justly entitled the lowest of her subjects.

The unsettled state in which most part of the Continent necessarily
remained for a little time after the entrance of the Allies into Paris,
did not afford the most favourable moment for the journey of one who
was not a military traveller; and I did not regret that business
prevented my leaving England for a few months after the opening of the
Continent, as I had the gratification of being a witness, in the British
metropolis, to the exultation of all ranks of men; first, at seeing the
legitimate monarch of France arrive there in company with our
illustrious Regent who having long contributed to lessen the afflictions
of the exiled _Count de Lille_, had first the satisfaction (to which he,
amongst all the sovereigns of Europe, was best entitled, by the great
part, which under his government, England had performed for the cause of
European liberty) of saluting him as _King of France_, amidst the cheers
of applauding thousands; and, secondly, of witnessing the arrival of the
magnanimous Alexander, of that too long unfortunate monarch, Frederick
William, of those chiefs, Platoff and Blucher, whose exploits have
ranked them amongst the first of heroes, and, at last, of seeing, in the
person of a _Wellington_, a British marshal who had successively foiled
the most renowned of the generals of Buonaparte, and who, like Turenne,
was accustomed "_to fight without anger, to conquer without ambition,
and to triumph without vanity_."

About the middle of July I left London and proceeded to Dover, a journey
which, in the improved state of our roads and of our conveyances, is
easily performed in one day; and often as I had before travelled the
Kent road, yet I could not see without surprise, the astonishing number
of public and private carriages with which it abounds, and which must
have doubtless much increased within the last few months. I became
acquainted on the road with a French Abbe, who, accompanied by his
sister, was returning home after an absence of twenty-two years, which
he had spent mostly in England, but he could by no means express himself
intelligibly in English. I therefore addressed him in his own language,
which pleased him extremely, and I found him an amusing companion, as
well as very grateful for some little services I rendered him in
arranging with the coachman respecting his baggage and that of his
sister, as they took the whole of their property to France with them,
including many household articles which I should not have thought worth
the expence of carriage. We supped in the same apartment at Dover, but
they had brought their provisions with them, which as I afterwards found
was sometimes the practice in France, either from motives of comfort or
economy. Such travellers, however, would not be much wished for at an
English inn.

Next morning my first business was to attend at the custom-house; and
the officers, after a diligent search, finding nothing illegal amongst
my baggage, permitted me to purchase a sufferance for it to be embarked
for France. The rest of the passengers having likewise arranged their
affairs and obtained sufferances, we proceeded on board the packet, and
found that it was extremely full without this last reinforcement; but I
doubt whether the captain way of that opinion. I found the charge for
the passage amounted to one guinea, which is the sum paid for the
passage between Dublin and Holyhead, although that is nearly three
times the extent of the channel between Dover and Calais. I was informed
that the seeming disproportion in those prices was to be attributed to
the heavy _post dues_ at Calais, which, for so small a vessel as the
packet, amounted to L14 or L15, although in the year 1793 they did not
exceed eighteen shillings.

Amongst the passengers was a Swiss gentleman, who I found passed for a
man of _great importance_ amongst the sailors. His carriage perhaps
contributed not a little to this, as it had once been the property of
the duke of Northumberland; and although the arms were defaced, yet the
coronet, the garter, and the gilding with which it was still decorated,
no doubt contributed to increase the expences of a journey which, from
its length, is a heavy tax on the pockets of the generality of
travellers, however plain may be their equipage.

We were above two hours on board before it was possible to extricate our
vessel from the great number of transports (I believe not less than
thirty-two) which crowded the harbour, being engaged for some time in
bringing home a large portion of our cavalry, who added to the military
glory they had acquired in Spain and Portugal, by their forbearance in
tolerating insults to which they were but too often exposed in their
passage through France, by a people whose vanity forbids them to admire
valour, except in Frenchmen, but whose conduct on those occasions served
only to increase the obligations which they had in so many instances
experienced from the humanity which always attends on British valour.

If we had to regret the delay we experienced in getting out to sea, that
sentiment soon vanished before the favourable breeze which, in about
four hours, brought us to the French coast. As the day was hazy, we had
not long to admire the venerable castle of Dover, and the cliff which
Shakspeare has celebrated; and some time elapsed before we could
distinguish the shores of France, which differ entirely from those of
England, rising gradually from the water's edge, with the single
exception of _Scales Cliff_, which seems to correspond with some of
those bulwarks which characterize our coast from Dover to Portland,
where, I think, chalk cliffs are succeeded by masses of rock and grey

The tide being out on our arrival before Calais, we could not get into
the harbour, and with that impatience to leave a ship, which is natural
to landsmen, we were glad to accept the offers of some boats which
hastened around the packet, to offer their services in landing us; this,
however, they did not exactly perform, being too large to get very near
the shore, to which we were each of us carried by three Frenchmen, one
to each leg, and a third behind. This service I had often had performed
by one of my fellow-subjects, and it seemed to verify the old saying,
that '_one Englishman is equal to three Frenchmen_.'

Each Monsieur however insisted on a shilling for his services, and the
boatmen five shillings from every passenger. But I had travelled enough
to know, that extortion on such occasions is so general, as not to be
peculiarly the characteristic of the inhabitants of any country, and if
ever there is _pleasure in being cheated_, it is surely on such an
occasion as that of exchanging the misery of a ship for the comforts of
the most indifferent inn.

The arrival for the first time in a foreign country, of a person who has
never before quitted his own, is an epoch of considerable moment in his
life. Most things are different from those he has been accustomed to,
and the force of first impressions is then stronger than, perhaps, at
almost any other period. We are, in general, not much disposed to like
any custom, or mode of dress, which is greatly at variance with what we
have been long used to, and the enormous height of the bonnets in France
produces, in my opinion, an effect far from pleasing; the ladies, by
their strange costume, _out-top_ many of the military.

I found the town of Calais in a state of equal bustle with Dover, and
from the same cause. It is regularly fortified, and contains many very
good houses. The population is estimated at between seven and eight
thousand. The market-place forms a spacious square. The town-house and
church are handsome buildings, and altogether it must be allowed much to
surpass Dover as to appearance.

The search which ray portmanteau had undergone the day before in
England, was here renewed by the officers of the French _Douane_, but
with no better success on the part of the officers in being able to
seize any thing. They were, however, very polite, and their fees only
amounted to half a crown. My next care was, to attend at the town-hall,
and present my passport to the inspection of the mayor, who indorsed it
with his licence for me to proceed to Paris.

I accordingly determined on setting out without further delay, and
joined an acquaintance in hiring a cabriolet for the journey, to obviate
the trouble of changing our luggage at every post, and to avoid any
delay that might arise from not finding a carriage at every station,
which is by no means certain, as in England. We found the _Cabriolet_ a
very pleasant conveyance, it is nearly as light as a curricle, and has
a head and windows, which exclude rain. It is drawn by two or three
horses, and proceeds at a tolerably good pace. The postilions are
provided with boots of a very inconvenient size, and with whips which
they are perpetually cracking, not much to the comfort of the ears of
their passengers.

Those who have never seen any thing but an English stage-coach, cannot
but feel some surprise at the different appearance which a French
_Diligence_ presents. Most of them carry nine inside passengers, and
three in the cabriolet, and as much luggage behind, and in the Imperial,
as would load a tolerably large waggon. They are generally drawn by four
horses, which present a very different appearance from those under the
English carnages, and they are driven by one postilion, who rides the
wheel-horse. Occasionally, a second postilion and two more leaders are
necessary from the weight of the carriage, or the heaviness of the
roads. Carriages in France, in passing each other, take exactly
different sides of the road from what they are obliged to do by our
laws of travelling.

The country, for many leagues round Calais reminded me very strongly of
Cambridgeshire in its general appearance, being flat, well cultivated,
unenclosed, and abounding in wind-mills. About the villages there are
some trees and enclosures; but a few more church spires are wanting to
complete the resemblance. The distance from Calais to Paris is about 180
_English miles_, and may generally be considered as a flat country,
occasionally diversified by a few hills of no great magnitude.
Enclosures are rarely seen, but the quantity of corn is quite
astonishing. Agriculture appeared to me to be in a highly improved
state: there are artificial grasses and meliorating crops. The
appearance of the villages in general on this road is but little
inferior to those in many parts of England. But the peasants, although
not for the most part badly off, have no idea of that neatness, and of
those domestic comforts which form the great characteristic of the same
class of people in England.

An English farmer would laugh at the great cocked hat which is usually
worn by the French husbandman, and would not be disposed to change his
white frock for the blue one used on the Continent. Some wood is
occasionally to be seen; but Picardy is not famous either for the
quantity or quality of its timber. The general fuel of the lower orders
is _turf_, which, however, is not in any great quantity; and in
appearance it is inferior to that used by the Irish peasants. The roads
are in general kept in good repair, and near Paris and some other great
towns they are paved in the centre. They are flanked in many places by
avenues of trees, which are for the most part cut with great formality;
but even where left to themselves, they do not add much to the ornament
of the country or to the comfort of the traveller, affording but a
scanty shade.

The whole of this road is without turnpikes; they were, as I understood,
abolished about three years ago, and the roads are now managed by the
government. The French praise Buonaparte extremely for his attention to
the state of their _roads_, and it must be owned that in this
particular he merits the praise bestowed on him, which cannot be said
with truth of many other parts of his conduct which seem to have been
also approved of by the French. Buonaparte, it is true, made excellent
roads, but he made them only for his soldiers, either to awe those who
had submitted to his yoke, or to afford a facility of extending still
further his conquests.

The drivers in France do not tax themselves at every public-house as
with us, for porter or spirits, which they do not want; they seldom
stop, unless the stage is unusually long, and their horses require a
little rest.

Before we were admitted within the gates of Boulogne our passports were
demanded, and underwent a strict examination, probably the remains of
the etiquette established by Buonaparte, this place being chiefly
remarkable as the port, from whence he proposed making his threatened
descent into England. We observed a vast unfinished fort, which he had
ordered to be constructed; it will probably never be completed, but
crumble to pieces like the vast and ill-acquired authority of its
founder. The town of Boulogne is large and well fortified, but the
bustle in the port was chiefly occasioned by the embarkation of the
English cavalry.

We dined at Samers, and there had the first specimen of a French dinner
(as at Calais we had lodged at an hotel, which is kept by an Englishman,
and where every thing was _a l'Angloise_). The _general_ hour for dining
is twelve o'clock; many public carriages stop to dine before that hour,
however, from twelve to one o'clock, the traveller is sure at every
tolerable inn of finding a very abundant and cheap repast. We found the
bread excellent, as also a profusion of fruit; the wine of Picardy is
bad, but good wine may be had from the southern provinces, at a
reasonable price.

Their meats are so much stewed, that their real flavour can hardly be
distinguished, but were they dressed by a mode of cookery that did them
more justice, I do not apprehend the epicure would have to find fault
with their quality.

The next place which presented any thing worthy of remark, was
Abbeville, a large fortified city, which has manufactures of cloth and
damask. The church which has suffered much during the anarchy of the
revolution, is still a large and handsome edifice. We proceeded to
breakfast at Boix, where the coffee was excellent, and the milk was
served up boiled, as is generally the custom throughout France.

We also found good accommodation at Beauvais, a large and ancient city,
where the architecture of the houses reminded me much of Shrewsbury. The
streets are narrow and winding. The cathedral is well worthy the
attention of the antiquarian, although it has, like many others in
France, suffered greatly during the revolution. In the neighbourhood of
Beauvais are a vast number of vineyards, and the effect produced by them
is very striking to those who have never seen a vine but in a stove. But
the novelty soon ceases, and a vineyard is then seen with as little
astonishment as a field of corn.

We were easily persuaded to make a short deviation from the direct road,
in order to visit Chantilly, the once splendid residence of the Princes
of Conde, but which now affords a melancholy contrast to the scene which
it exhibited in more tranquil times. The Great Chateau has disappeared;
but a small building remains at a distance, which is to be fitted up for
the reception of its venerable owner, who is expected in the course of
the summer to pay a visit to the inheritance which the late happy
revolution has restored to him, after having undergone a sad change in
its appearance. The great stables are standing, but only serve to add to
the desolation of the scene by their vacancy, and the contrast which
they form to the small house which now only remains to the possessor of
this great domain.--St. Denis, where we soon arrived, is a small town
not far distant from Paris; it was anciently remarkable for its _abbey_,
which contained the magnificent tombs of the Kings of France. These were
mostly destroyed early in the revolution (but a few still remain, in
the museum of monuments at Paris, as I afterwards found) when the
promoters endeavoured to obliterate all traces of royalty: but when
after a long series of convulsions, Buonaparte thought his dynasty had
been firmly established on the throne of the Bourbons, he decreed that
this abbey should be restored as the burying place of the monarchs of
France; and it is probable that decree will be carried into effect,
although not in the sense which its promulgator intended.

* * * * *


The approach to Paris is certainly very striking, but considering the
vast extent of the city, its environs do not present an appearance of
any thing like that bustle and activity which marks the vicinity of the
British metropolis: nor do the villas which are to the north of Paris
display that aspect of opulence which distinguishes those streets of
villas by which London is encompassed. The gate of St. Denis, under
which we passed, is a fine piece of architecture; it stands at the end
of a long and narrow street, which is but ill calculated to impress a
stranger with those ideas of the magnificence of Paris of which the
French are perpetually boasting, although it conducts him nearly to the
centre of the city. I afterwards found that this is the most crowded
quarter of the city; the houses are from six to eight stories in height,
and are almost universally built of stone.--But although it must be
admitted that this entrance to Paris is one of the least distinguished,
yet at the same time it must be observed, that there are but very few
streets in that city which have much to boast of in point of appearance;
they are mostly narrow, and the height of the houses necessarily makes
them gloomy. They are (except in one or two new streets at the extremity
of the town) extremely incommodious for pedestrians, there being here no
place set apart for them as in London; hence they traverse the streets
in perpetual dread of being run over by some of those numerous carriages
which are continually passing along with an _impetus_ which raises just
apprehensions in the mind of the foot passenger, that he may share the
fate of Doctor Slop, if nothing more serious should befall him; as in
avoiding the carriages it is no easy task to keep clear of the _kennel_,
which is in the centre of the street; the descent to it is rapid, and it
is rarely dry even in the warmest weather.

It is when seen from one of the bridges, that Paris appears to most
advantage, as many of the quays are unquestionably very handsome, and
decorated with many elegant edifices. The Seine is in no part so much as
half the width of the Thames, in some places not a fourth part, as it
forms two islands, on one of which stands the original city of Paris.
Its waters are united at the _Pont Neuf_, on which stands the statue of
Henry IV. looking towards the Louvre, which he founded. The view from
this bridge is without comparison the most striking in Paris, and is
perhaps unequalled in any city, for the great number of royal and public
edifices which are seen from it; and inconsiderable as is the Seine
compared with many other rivers, yet nothing has been neglected to
render its banks striking to the passenger.--Many of the bridges (of
which I think there are altogether 16) are handsome, particularly those
of Austerlitz and of Jena, constructed by order of Buonaparte. There is
one bridge, the arches of which are of iron, opposite the gallery of the
Louvre, which is open only to foot passengers, each person paying two
sous for the privilege of being admitted on this promenade, which is
often much crowded with company. Very soon after my arrival at Paris I
came to this conclusion, that although Paris far exceeds London, Dublin,
or Edinburgh, in the splendour of its public buildings, and often in the
handsome appearance of many of its houses, yet those cities are far
preferable in point of all essential comforts. And after spending a
considerable time in Paris, I saw no reason to change the opinion which
I had first formed; that opinion however cannot, I should apprehend, be
questioned by a Frenchman, as it admits fully the magnificence of many
parts of his favourite city, and this is sufficient for his vanity. With
us cleanliness and comfort are preferred to shew, we find them in most
of our own cities, but those who know most of Paris will not deny that
they are rarely to be met with there.

I had been recommended to the Hotel de Pondicherry, by a gentleman who
had for some time lodged there; but I found there were no vacant
apartments. After making application in vain at many of the hotels in
the Rue de Richelieu, I at last succeeded in meeting with good
accommodation in the Hotel des Prouvaires, which was in a convenient
situation, and had the advantage of having been lately painted. I found
the people of the house very civil and attentive, and produced my
passport from the Secretary of States' Office, signed by Lord
Castlereagh, to satisfy them that I was no _avanturier_, a very numerous
class here. The expence I found differed but little from, that of most
of the hotels in London; but the French hotels are in fact more what we
should call lodging-houses, as they do not supply dinners, &c. which
must be procured from a restaurateur's, of which there are a vast
number; and I have heard it stated, that there are no less than 2500
coffee-houses in Paris.

The population of Paris is stated by Marchant, in the last edition of
his Guide to Paris at 580,000; the number of houses is estimated to be
29,400; this would give an average of nearly twenty persons to each
house. This I do not consider as too great a proportion to allow, if we
consider the vast number of hotels that can contain at least double that
number of persons; and that in many parts of the town each story is
occupied (as in Edinburgh) by a separate family.

The population of Paris has undoubtedly decreased since the revolution;
Dutens, who published his Itinerary about thirty years ago, tells us, at
that period the inhabitants of Paris amounted to 650,000: but even
supposing him to have over-rated them, still there remains a great
disparity in the two calculations, and it is reasonable to conclude,
that the present statement by Marchant is accurate, from the facilities
which the system of police affords in forming a just calculation on the

Paris, including all its suburbs, is said to be about eight leagues in
circumference, and, except London and Constantinople, exceeds all the
other cities of Europe in extent.

The markets of Paris are remarkably well supplied with provisions of
every description, and at a price which appears moderate to an
Englishman. I have been told, that fuel is sometimes at a very high
price in the winter; but not being there at that season, I cannot speak
from my own experience. What I had most reason to complain of during my
stay, was scarcity of that great essential to health and cleanliness,
_good water_. The city is for the most part supplied with this first of
necessaries from the river Seine. Adjoining to one of the bridges is a
vast machine, which raises its waters, which are conducted to all parts
of the town, and also supply several public fountains. They have,
however, an extremely bad taste from the numerous establishments for
washing for all Paris, which are established in boats on all parts of
the river, which is thus strongly impregnated with soap-suds, and its
cathartic qualities have been experienced by many strangers on their
first arrival in Paris.

The French never drink this water without mixing in it a proportion of
sugar, and then call it _eau sucre_, which is often called for at the
coffee-houses. Most houses have reservoirs of sand for filtering the
water before it is used for drinking; but those who have been accustomed
to the luxury of good water, cannot be soon reconciled to that of the
Seine. The water of the _Ville d'Arblay_ is sold in jars in the streets
for making tea, and some of the fountains are supplied by springs. I
believe the late government had a scheme in contemplation for the
construction of an aqueduct, to supply purer water for the Parisians
than what they now use.

Many fountains have been established within the last few years, and the
site of that once formidable building the _Bastile_ is now occupied by
one. None of these modern fountains (although many of them display much
taste) are, however, by any means to be compared, in point of elegance,
to that which stands in the market of Innocents, and which was erected
in the year 1550. Its situation is too confined for so handsome a
structure, and I had some difficulty in finding my way to it. It has the
following inscription from the pen of M. Santeuil, (who has furnished
many others, particularly that on the fountain near the Luxemburg


Quos duro cernis simulatos marmore fructus
Hujus Nympha loci credidit esse suos.

Which may be thus translated,

The fruits you see on this cold marble hewn,
This Fountain's Nymph believes to be her own.

The Guide to Paris informs us, that the city is divided into several
quarters; that the vicinity of the _Palais Royal_, of the _Thuilleries_,
and of the _Chaussee d'Antin_, are the most fashionable, and of course
the most expensive; but that lodgings are to be met with on reasonable
terms in parts of the city, which are fully as desirable, particularly
in the suburb of St. Germain. There are furnished hotels to be met with
on a large scale in that quarter, it having been mostly inhabited by
foreign princes and ambassadors; and it was also much frequented by
English families, as they considered it the most healthy and quiet part
of Paris.

The Quarter du Marais was principally occupied by lawyers, financiers,
annuitants; and, in short, all the Jews of the nation lodged there.

The Quarter of the Palais Royal is chiefly inhabited by sharpers,
cheats, loungers, and idle people of all descriptions. Who could think
that a space of ground not exceeding 150 acres, contains more
heterogeneous materials blended together than are to be found in the
9910 acres (the French acre is one and a quarter, English measure) on
which the city of Paris stands? It is the great mart of pleasure, of
curiosity, and of corruption; and if the police wish to apprehend an
offender, it is in the Palais Royal that they are sure to find him.
Before the period of the revolution there were here but two public
gaming houses; but at present the number is really astonishing. The
police under Buonaparte did not discourage their increase; they argued
that these houses were the _rendezvous_ of all sharpers, villains, and
conspirators; and that they often saved an ineffectual search for them
in other quarters. A government like that of Buonaparte did not
reflect, that these houses, which thus abounded with desperate
characters, did not fail to perpetuate their number by the corruption
which they caused in the principles of the rising generation; and many
of the best informed Frenchmen are well aware that it will be the work
of time, to recover their country from the _demoralized_ state in which
it was left after the government of Buonaparte.

On the subject of gaming a French writer has justly observed: "Quand il
serait vrai que la passion du jeu ne finit pas toujours par le crime,
toujours est il constant qu'elle finit par l'infortune et le
deshonneur." "Granting it to be true, that the love of gaming does not
always terminate in crime, yet still it invariably ends in misfortune
and dishonour." But is it not rather improbable that those who have so
far transgressed as to apprehend the vigilance of the police, should
venture into the very places where they must be aware of immediate

Perhaps the same argument holds in Paris as in London, against totally
suppressing the haunts of these depredators on society, _That if there
were no thieves there would be no thief-takers_; and the police are
content to keep within moderate bounds, a set of men who often
contribute to their emolument, and whom they fear to exterminate. It
must, however, be allowed, that in all large towns, however great may be
the vigilance of the police, there still must be abundance of the
followers of _Macheath_. Perhaps Paris most abounds in sharpers who
cheat with _finesse_, and London in the number of pick-pockets and
robbers. The _nightly police_ of Paris is admirably conducted; and
during my stay there I never experienced the smallest molestation in the

The Palais Royal consists of six squares, the chief of which is large
and handsomely built on piazzas. There are rows of trees in the centre,
but they by no means contribute to its beauty.

The shops under these arcades are many of them the most shewy in Paris;
and, as the owners pay a heavy rent for them, they take care to enhance
the price of their goods, so as not to carry on a losing concern. The
number of coffee-houses and restaurateurs for dining, in this square are
very numerous, and most of them are by no means moderate in their
prices, at least when we compare them with others in a different part of
Paris, or even near the Palais Royal; but it is not under these piazzas
that economy is to be practised. The _Cafe de Foi_ is one of the most
celebrated for newspapers and politicians; but one is considered as
having seen nothing of the _manners of the place_, if the _Cafe des
Aveugles_ is not visited. This is situated under the Italian
Coffee-house, and has its name from the large orchestra which performs
here continually, being composed wholly of blind persons. I visited this
place with a friend for a few moments after its opening, which is never
till five o'clock in the afternoon, as its frequenters tolerate only the
light of candles.

The subterranean situation of this apartment renders it difficult of
ventilation; and the noise of the musicians and their audience
contending for the supremacy, added to the extraordinary heat of the
place and the density of the air, occasioned us to make a speedy retreat
to what, after leaving such a place, might be considered as a pure

Often as the Palais Royal has been described, and forcibly as the scenes
which it exhibits have been depicted, yet I confess I do not think the
descriptions I have read of it by any means overcharged; and it may be
safely affirmed that there is no place in the world where the scene
varies so often in the twenty-four hours as it does here. I was
attracted by a notice, that the English newspapers were taken in at the
Cabinet Litteraire of M. Rosa; and, having paid my subscription, was
conducted into a spacious reading room, exclusively for the English
papers. The love of news is at all times natural; but at a distance from
home the mind is doubly anxious for the details of what is going on
there, and attaches an interest to particulars which, under other
circumstances, it would consider as too trivial to be worthy of
attention. During my stay on the Continent, I felt very forcibly the
truth of Dr. Johnson's observation, "_that it is difficult to conceive
how man can exist without a newspaper_." I was, however, for a
considerable time, _forced_ to be satisfied with the French papers, the
expence of the English being so great, as to cause them to be seldom
taken in abroad; and after my departure from Paris, I saw no English
paper until my arrival at Frankfort, an interval of above two months.

If the pedestrian is exposed to many inconveniences and dangers in the
streets of Paris, yet intricate as they often are, he is seldom in
danger of going far out of his way, if he attends to the manner in which
the names of the streets are coloured, those leading to the river being
lettered in black, and those parallel to, or not leading directly to it,
in red. The quays form the most prominent feature in Paris, and when
arrived there, he can experience little difficulty in finding the road
he desires. The mode of numbering the houses in Paris differs from that
used with us, all the odd numbers being on one aide the street, and the
even numbers on the other.

After having seen the Palais Royal, my attention was next attracted by
the Palace of the Tuilleries (so called from the circumstance of tiles
having been formerly made on the spot where it stands). This is a vast
and magnificent building, extending in front next the gardens 168 toises
(about 1050 feet English measure). The gardens were laid out by _Le
Noitre_, and exhibit a specimen of the taste of that time, abounding in
statues, avenues, and water-works; but it must at the same time be
admitted, that the general effect produced is not devoid of
magnificence, which is heightened by the communication between these
gardens and the Champs Elysees, which forms a vista of great length, and
when illuminated, the _coup d'oeil_ must be really superb. On the side of
the gardens next the river, is a terrace considerably elevated, which
commands a view well deserving the praise which has been bestowed on
it. This was the usual promenade of Buonaparte, who caused a
subterranean communication to be formed between it and the Palace, to
avoid passing through those parts of the garden which were open to the
public, who, during his promenade, were excluded from the terrace. The
Parisians did not like this exclusion, and used to say, on seeing his
Majesty, "_See, the lion is come out of his den_." This terrace was also
the constant walk of the ex-Empress and her son. I was told, that
shortly after Buonaparte's installation as Emperor, the people, to mark
their disapprobation of the dignity which he had assumed, entirely
deserted the gardens of this palace, which had always been their
favourite walk in the evenings; and that, being hurt at this, the
Emperor ordered one of his military bands to play here every evening.
The scheme succeeded; the attraction being too great for the Parisians
to resist, and the gardens were more frequented than ever.

The other front of the Tuilleries looks towards the Place du Carousel,
from which it is separated by a lofty iron balustrade, the top of which
is gilt. Opposite the centre entrance of the Palace stands a magnificent
triumphal arch, erected by Buonaparte, on the top of which he has placed
the four celebrated _bronze horses_, which were removed to Paris on the
seizure of Venice by his army, as they had been formerly transported by
conquest from Corinth to Constantinople, and thence to Venice, where
they adorned for several centuries the Place of St. Mark. These horses
are conducted by two figures of Victory, and Peace, executed by M.
Sencot, which many admire extremely.

Buonaparte has been no bad _locumtenens_ of this palace for the
Bourbons, as it bears abundant testimony to the taste with which he
caused it to be decorated. He had the entire of the Louvre _scratched_,
so as to give it quite a new appearance, and his crown and initials are
everywhere to be seen. On the grand _facade_ was an inscription,
signifying, "_that_ _Napoleon the Great had completed what Henry the
Fourth had begun_;" but this inscription has disappeared, since the
return of the descendants of Henry IV. to the palace which that great
king had built, and which an usurper endeavoured to persuade posterity
he had a share in constructing. It is worthy of remark, that this chef
d'oeuvre of architecture, as if has always been considered, was not the
work of a professed architect, but of M. Perrault, a physician. The word
Louvre is, by some, derived from the Saxon _Louvar_, signifying a

Buonaparte's plans for the further improvement of this palace were on
the most extensive scale imaginable, as he intended to remove all the
buildings situated between the Louvre and the Tuilleries; and some idea
of the extent of the proposed area may be formed, when it is considered
that, in its present state, the place _du Carousel_ is sufficiently
capacious to admit of 15,000 men being drawn up there in battle array.
Whilst I remained at Paris, a considerable number of workmen were
engaged in carrying on these improvements, but it is probable, from the
exhausted state in which the projector of these undertakings has left
the finances of France, that it will be many years before it will be
possible to complete them.

* * * * *


If the stranger at Paris is struck by the magnificent appearance which
the exterior of the Louvre presents, he cannot fail of being delighted
with an inspection of the contents of its invaluable Museum. This, like
nearly all the museums and libraries in Paris, is open to _every
individual_, except on the days appropriated for study, when only
_artists_ are admitted; but even then, a stranger, whose stay is
limited, may be admitted on producing his _passport_, a regulation which
is highly commendable for its liberality; and at none of these
repositories are the attendants permitted to lay any contributions on
the visitants. The gallery of the Louvre was built by Henry IV. to join
that palace with the Tuilleries, from which it was formerly separated,
by the walls which surrounded Paris. This vast gallery is _two hundred
toises_ in length (not a great deal short of a quarter of an English
mile); the collection of works of art here in without any parallel, as
in this place are assembled most of the finest paintings and statues in
the world, which the most indifferent must survey with admiration. But
at the same time, it is impossible not to feel a portion of regret at
the causes which have robbed Italy of those monuments, which its
inhabitants so well knew how to appreciate, and for many of which they
entertained a religious veneration, as the ornaments of their churches.

The French, as far as I am able to judge, do not (in general) possess
any such feeling of sensibility, and merely value these _chefs d'oeuvre_
because their merit is allowed to be _incontestable_, and because their
vanity is flattered, in seeing them thus collected by their victories as
an additional attraction for strangers to visit their capital.

But Italy, although thus despoiled of so many of her ornaments, will
still have many and great attractions for the man of taste; her
buildings exhibit the finest specimens of art that are any where
remaining; and those possessed of a classic genius will always behold
with delight the scenes celebrated by a Horace or a Virgil. The
paintings in this gallery exceed 1200 in number; they are divided into
three classes, the first contains the French school, the second the
German, and the third the Italian. Catalogues and descriptions of the
paintings may be had at the doors. I often visited this gallery, and
always with increased admiration. I shall not attempt to enter into any
details as to the respective excellence of the different paintings.
Volumes have been written on the subject, and my testimony could add
nothing to excellence which is acknowledged by all--by those who have
not seen, on the reports of those who have visited this splendid
assemblage, who, having seen, have not failed to admire, and to give
currency to their admiration. The following lines on Raphael, will be
readily admitted as just by those who have seen some of his sublime

Hic ille est Raphael, timuit quo sospite vinci,
Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori.

Here Raphael lies, who could with nature vie,
To him she feared to yield, with him to die.

Although I thought my admiration had been so largely called forth by the
pictures I had just visited, as to have been almost exhausted, yet the
distinguished excellence of the statues did not fail to rekindle it; and
indeed it is impossible it should have been otherwise, when surrounded
by such admirable specimens of art.--The number bears its due proportion
to that of the pictures, and the same reasons which induced me to say
little of them, will prevent my dilating on the excellence of the

Et la meilleure chose, on la gate souvent.
Pour la vouloir outrer, et pousser trop avant.

I must, however, observe, that here are assembled the three finest
statues in the world, the _Laocoon_, the _Venus_ de Clomene, from the
collection of the Medici family, and the _Apollo_ Belvidere, which was
found amongst the ruins of Antrum, about the end of the 15th century;
and eveu in imagining the most perfect nature, it is difficult to form
an idea of such perfection as is here exhibited; but much as I admired
the Apollo, I was yet more delighted by contemplating the excellence
displayed in the graceful figure of the Venus.

The gallery of paintings at the palace of the Luxemburg (which is now
called the palace of the Peers of France, as they sit at present in the
hall, formerly occupied by Buonaparte's Conservative Senate) although
vastly inferior to that at the Louvre, both as to the number, and value
of the collection it contains; yet it is well worthy the attention of
the stranger, and the circumstance of its not being too crowded is
favourable to the visitant, whose attention is not so much divided here
as by the attractions of the greater collection, where he is often at a
loss which way he shall turn. Here are statues of Bacchus and Ariadne.
The gallery of Rubens contains twenty-one pictures by that great master,
representing the history of Mary of Medicis; it also contains his
Judgment of Paris. The gallery of Vernet contains a series of views of
the principal sea-ports of France, by that painter, and also Poussin's
picture of the Adoration of the Magi. Here are also two celebrated
pictures by that great modern painter, David--Brutus after having
condemned his Son, and the Oath of the Horatii, which appeared to me
worthy of the favourable report I had before heard of them.

This palace has a spacious and handsome garden; the front of Queen's
College, Oxford, is an imitation on a reduced scale of its facade to the

After the paintings, I next inquired after the Libraries which Paris
contains; these are very numerous, but as I had so much to see, I
contented myself with visiting the two principal ones, first, the royal
library, Rue Richelieu. This contains the library of Petrarch, which
alone would render it an object of curiosity. Here are also the globes
of the Jesuit _Coronelli_, which are upwards of thirty-four feet in
circumference. The Cabinet of Antiquities contains the collection of
Count Caylus. The number of printed volumes is stated to amount to
350,000. The manuscripts are not less than 72,000. Here is also a vast
and very valuable collection of medals, and about 5000 engravings. All
persons are permitted to read here from ten until two o'clock.

The second Library which I visited was one which formerly belonged to
that celebrated Minister, Cardinal Mazarin, and is now in the Palais des
Beaux Arts, on the opposite side of the river from the Louvre. This
collection consists of 60,000 volumes, amongst which are many works of
great value.

If the traveller sees much to interest him, and much to admire during
the course of his tour, it is natural that he should occasionally meet
with disappointment; and I must confess that in the Metropolitan Church
of Notre Dame, I saw little worthy of that praise which is lavished on
it by the French; it is only venerable from its antiquity, being one of
the most ancient Christian churches in Europe.--In point of
architecture, and the general appearance of the exterior, it yields to
any of the cathedrals, and to very many of the parish churches in
England. The interior is mean in the extreme (the High Altar only
excepted;) the body of the church being entirely filled up with the
commonest rush bottomed chairs, and not kept in any tolerable order. But
the most splendid church in Paris is unquestionably that of St. Sulpice,
which is also one of the most striking buildings in the metropolis,
notwithstanding the dissimilitude of the two towers of its grand Western

The Pantheon is not very different as to its general appearance from the
last mentioned church. This edifice has cost already vast sums, but is
not considered as completed. I saw during my stay at Paris most of the
churches which it contains, and was in general disappointed with their
appearance. The church of St. Roque is the handsomest after that of St.
Sulpice. There is a Protestant church in the Rue St. Honore, called
L'Oratoire. Bossuet said of this congregation, "It is a body where all
obey, and where no one commands."--Adjoining to this church is a very
small chapel, where since the peace the service has been performed
according to the form of the church of England. I attended here the
Sunday after my arrival in Paris, and found the congregation consisted
of about 40 persons, and at first sight one could not have supposed they
were all British subjects, so completely had the ladies adopted the
_great hat_, and the other peculiarities of the French _ton_.

Still one sees in the streets and public places several who do not
desire to be thought French subjects, and who persist in wearing the
much-abused habits of their own country.

There have been many disputes respecting the number of English actually
in Paris; I have no doubt it has been extremely exaggerated. I saw, at
my bankers, Messrs. Perregeaux & Co. a list of all those who had credit
with them, which was less considerable by half at least than report had

In the Place Vendome stands a truly magnificent column (copied from that
of Trajan at Rome) to commemorate the victories of Buonaparte, and his
army in Germany. The execution of the _bas reliefs_ reflects credit on
the state of sculpture in France, and cannot fail to claim the
approbation of the beholder.

On the top of the column stood a colossal statue of Buonaparte; this,
like the other statues of that modern _Sejanus_, has disappeared since
the downfall of his empire, and the return of the ancient dynasty has
caused to be placed on its summit the white flag, formerly so much
venerated by the French.

I set out at an early hour to go over the celebrated Gobelin manufactory
in the Rue Mouffetard, the proprietor of which is extremely civil to
strangers, and permits them to see his premises from ten till one
o'clock, and they are well worthy of attention. The name of this
manufactory is derived from its founder Gille Gobelin, originally from
Rheims, who settled here in 1450.--I was also the same day much pleased
with surveying the Stereotype press of that famous printer _Didot_,
whose editions of various authors are in such esteem amongst judges of
the art.

In the Place des Victoires, I observed an enormous statue of General
Dessaix, on the site formerly occupied by one of Lewis XIV. (I have
been informed, that about two months after my departure from Paris, this
statue has been removed to a foundery, where by _fusion_, it may perhaps
assume the appearance of a Bourbon.)--The Great Bureau of the Post,
where only foreign letters can be _franked_, that is postpaid by those
who send them (without which they are not forwarded) is in the Rue J.J.
Rousseau, whose name was given to this street, from his having for some
time occupied an attic story in it.

The Botanic Garden (Jardin des Plantes) being open to the public only on
Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and its situation being at the farthest
extremity of Paris from my hotel, I set out as early as possible to view
it with the attention it deserved. It is on a very great scale, and
contains about 7000 plants, arranged according to the scientific method
of M. Jussieu. The Library I did not see, but the Museum and the
Menagerie are on the most extensive scale, and accounts have been
published of their curiosities.--Being fatigued with _seeing the Lions_,
I sat down to rest for a short time on a vacant seat in the garden; but
presently two elderly ladies came to the same place, and lamented in the
_most expressive terms_ the loss of a favourite dog; the lady who had
lost it, said it was the _only consolation_ she had, that it was
absolutely _necessary to love something_, and that she felt most
miserable at her loss.

This concern for the loss of a dog appeared to me much more natural,
than the delight with which some virtuosos, whom I observed in the
Museum, contemplated many of the specimens preserved there. The French
have a great _latitude of expression_, being naturally an extremely
lively people; but certainly not so much so as formerly. I recollect
some years ago being much amused by an anecdote, related by the late Dr.
Moore, in his "View of the State of Society and Manners in France,
Italy, and Germany." The Doctor was informed by a French gentleman of
his acquaintance, with that vivacity which distinguishes his nation,
that he had just then received a final dismissal from a lady, who had
for some time appeared to favour his addresses, and that he was
absolutely in _despair_. Dr. Moore, who, from the vivacity of his
friend's manners, had no idea that any thing had happened that seriously
distressed him, answered, that he thought him the merriest person he had
ever seen in such a situation. The other immediately replied, "but you
English have such an idea of despair!"

The various revolutions of the last twenty-five years have doubtless
contributed, in no small degree, to diminish much of that gaiety, which
formerly distinguished the French from most other nations, and which
formed one of their chief characteristics.

Under the late government reserve was positively _necessary_, so
numerous were the emissaries of the police, and so anxious were they to
report the most trifling circumstances to their employer, that they
might convince him how very necessary they were to the furtherance of
his government. In those unhappy times every man mistrusted his
neighbour, fearing he might be concerned in one of the _eighteen police
establishments_ supported by the mistrust of the emperor in the
affections of his subjects. The _Conscription Laws_, and the right which
Buonaparte assumed of _disposing in marriage all ladies_ possessed of a
certain income, as a measure of rewarding the services of his officers,
and which violated the closest connexions and best interests of society;
together with his system of _forced loans_, which entirely destroyed the
rights of _private property_, did not leave his subjects many
incitements to mirth--although it was dangerous to appear dejected. "The
Voyage Descriptif et Philosophique de Paris, par L---- P----," contains
the following remarks, the truth of which renders them interesting, and
I shall therefore translate them, for the information of those who may
chance to peruse these pages. The author observes, "An air of inquietude
has succeeded that openness and sociability, which so much distinguished
the French. Their serious air announces that most people are considering
the amount of their debts, and are always put to expedients. One
guesses, that in a company of thirty at least twenty-four are revolving
the means of acquiring wealth; and notwithstanding twenty are without
it." I shall quote in conclusion what the same writer says of the
Parisian, and which strikes me as a correct statement. "The Parisian is
in general tolerably indifferent as to his political situation; he is
never wholly enslaved, never free. He repels cannon by puns, and links
together power and despotism by witty epigrams. He quickly forgets the
misfortunes of the preceding day; he keeps no diary of grievances, and
one might say, he has sufficient confidence in himself not to dread too
absolute a despotism. It is to be hoped, that the happy restoration of
the Bourbons will restore to the Parisian his gaiety, and that Louis
XVIII. the legitimate father of the French, will cause all former
political convulsions to be forgotten."

The Parisians are distinguished by their loquacity. Having occasion to
employ a hair-cutter, I was quite stunned by his volubility of tongue.
_King Archelaus_ would find it difficult to be suited here; for being
asked how he would have his hair cut, he answered--"silently."

After many ineffectual attempts, I at last succeeded in satisfying my
curiosity by seeing the assembly of the Legislative Body. The building
is one of the greatest ornaments of which Paris can boast; it was
chiefly the work of Buonaparte, who was satisfied to lodge these
gentlemen in a palace, provided they did not interfere in the government
of their country. I was not gratified in proportion to the trouble I had
in getting into the hall, by the short and uninteresting debate which
ensued. This House was occupied during the greatest part of my stay in
Paris in discussing the forms proper to be observed when the king meets
the peers and commons.

The deputies object, that the king should himself desire the peers to be
seated, and that they should only receive that permission through the
medium of the chancellor: how the point has been decided, I have not
been since informed.

The weather was intensely hot during part of my stay at Paris, the
quicksilver being occasionally at 26 deg. Reaumur, equal to 90 deg. of
Fahrenheit's scale, and the sky without a cloud, there not being, in
general, such a cloud of smoke over Paris as generally obscures the
atmosphere of London. Yet, I believe, the best accounts allow that
London is to the full as healthy a city as Paris, and if cleanliness is
conducive to health the point can admit of little doubt. During part of
this oppressive weather, I used generally to resort, about mid-day, to
the gallery of the Louvre, being anxious to take every opportunity of
contemplating its superb collection of the works of art. There,
notwithstanding the number of visitors, the marble floors and
ventilators rendered the air much more cool than it was out of doors. I
generally set out on my rambles through the city at as early an hour as
custom would permit, and in the evening, often joined the pedestrians in
the gardens of the Tuilleries, which were always thronged with company
of all descriptions. There are a vast number of chairs under the trees,
and their proprietors demand one or two sous for the right of sitting in
them. I have been assured that this inconsiderable charge procures a
total by no means contemptible.

I sometimes extended my walk into the Champs Elysees, which extend a
long way beyond the Place de Louis XV. Its avenues are lighted like the
streets of Paris, by lanthorns, suspended across them by ropes and
pulleys, which give a stronger light than our lamps, but do not seem
equally secure. At the end of the centre avenue, which runs in a
straight line from the grand entrance to the Tuilleries, Buonaparte had
lately begun a triumphal arch to commemorate the victories of his
armies; and still further, exactly opposite the bridge of Jena, he
caused a vast number of houses to be destroyed, to make way for a
projected palace for the King of Rome. The foundations only of this
edifice had been laid before the overthrow of Buonaparte, and this large
plot of ground now presents a scene of waste and desolation.

The present government, which will not prosecute so expensive and
useless an undertaking, will still have to make compensation to the
owners of the buildings of which only the ruins remain.

The quarter of St. Antoine is celebrated in the annals of the
Revolution; and, indeed, there are but few parts of Paris, which do not
recall to one's mind some of those scenes so disgraceful to humanity of
which it was the great theatre. The Place Royale in this district is
only remarkable, for having been built by Henry IV.: it forms a square
with a small garden in the centre, but has long ceased to be a
fashionable residence. In Paris there are no squares similar in plan to
those in London, but occasionally one sees places formed by the junction
of streets, &c. The town-house is a large, and as I think, a tasteless
Gothic edifice; and in the Place de Greve stood that guillotine which
deprived such incredible multitudes of their lives. At one period of
the Revolution every successful faction in turn, endeavoured, as it
should seem, to exterminate its enemies, when it succeeded in possessing
itself of the supreme power, which then chiefly consisted in the command
of this formidable instrument; and these successive tyrants, like
_Sylla_, were often in doubt _whom they should permit still to remain

I do not know that the invention of the _guillotine_, is to be ascribed
to the ingenuity of the French, but they will for ever remain obnoxious
to the charge of the most dreadful abuse of it. I have heard it stated
that, so late as the reigns of Elizabeth, and James the First, an
instrument similar to the guillotine, was used for the execution of
offenders in the vicinity of Hardwicke Forest, in Yorkshire.

The _Boulevards_ are now merely very spacious streets, with avenues of
trees at the sides, but formerly they were the boundaries of the city.
They form a fashionable promenade for the Parisians, and abound with
horsemen and carriages more than any other quarter of the town. Along
the Boulevard Poissonnier are some of the handsomest houses in Paris. I
dined with a family in one of them which commands a very cheerful scene.
There are here, as in the Palais Royal, a vast number of coffee-houses,
billiard-tables, and restaurateurs. The price of a dinner differs little
from what is usually paid in London, but bread is about half the price,
and there is a great saving in the charge for wine, with this additional
advantage, that it is generally of much better quality than can be met
with in London for double the price; as the heavy duties on importing
French wines necessarily induces their adulteration. A stranger to
_French manners_, is surprised at seeing ladies of respectability
frequenting coffee-houses and taverns, which they do as matter of
course;--so powerful are the habits in which we have been educated.

After the Boulevards, the Rue Royale and the Rue de Rivoli are the
handsomest in Paris. The last named is far from being completed, and
runs in a line, facing the gardens of the Tuilleries; in these two
streets there is a division to protect foot passengers, but they are not

* * * * *


The Royal Hotel of the Invalids, is one of the principal establishments
in Paris, which claims the attention of the stranger, and I accordingly
went to view it with a party of friends. The principal court has just
resumed the title of _Royal_, but we could easily distinguish that it
had been a few months since dignified by that of _Imperial_. Indeed, all
over Paris, this change is very perceptible. The last letters are often
in the old gilding, and the first part of the style only altered, as the
French do not, in general, like to do _more than is necessary_, and but
seldom _condemn_ a house, but continue to patch it up in some manner, so
as to make it last a little longer, which accounts for the appearance of
antiquity which generally distinguishes their towns.

But to return to the Invalids. The establishment is said to be
calculated to accommodate 5000 men; but we found upon inquiry, that the
number then actually maintained did not exceed 3600. As it was their
dinner hour, we went into their refectory; each man has a pint of the
_vin ordinaire_, (the general price of which is from ten to twenty sous
the bottle;) but I doubt whether it would be received as a substitute
for malt liquor either at Chelsea or Kilmainham. The church of this
establishment, is one of the most splendid in the capital. The
ex-Emperor caused monuments to be erected here to Vauban and Turenne.
The latter, by a special mark of the favour of Lewis XIV. had been
interred in the royal vault at St. Denis; but his remains now rest here;
and the monument is worthy of so distinguished a general. That to
Vauban, on the opposite side, is by no means equally elegant.

The elevation of the dome of this church, exceeds that of any other
building in Paris; and the French boast, that it rises to a greater
height than St. Paul's Cathedral in London; but this I do not think is
the case, although the point is of little moment. M. Dutens gives us
the following scale of the comparative elevation of some of the highest
buildings in the world.


The highest Pyramid 771/2

Strasburg Cathedral to the top of the
vane 713/4

St. Peter's at Rome, to the summit
of the cross 68

Church of the Invalids at Paris to
the vane 54

St. Paul's Cathedral, London, to
the top of the Cross 53

The interior of the dome of the Invalids is handsomely painted; but the
exterior exhibits what I must consider as a very misplaced species of
decoration for a place of this nature, being _completely gilt_, pursuant
to an order of Buonaparte, dated, as I have been informed by good
authority, from _Moscow_. This decoration has, as can well be supposed,
cost vast sums, but it probably obtained for the ex-Emperor that
_eclat_, by which he constantly sought to please the vanity of the
Parisians. Many of his decrees for the embellishment of their city,
being dated from Vienna, Berlin, and Madrid, he sought to astonish the
multitude, by attempting to accomplish in a few years, what it would _in
general_ require an _age_ to effect. Perhaps, calculating on the
instability of his power, he hastened the construction of whatever might
render it famous. A French writer observes, "Il vouloit courir a cheval
a la posterite."

Near the Invalids there is a _Military School_ for 500 children; and
near the _Champ de Mars_ are two large barracks. Indeed, Paris abounds
with them, as the military power has long been predominant in France.
The _Champ de Mars_ is only celebrated in the history of the Revolution;
its present appearance is by no means interesting. In this vicinity is
the _Place de Grenelle_, famous for being the spot where military
executions used to take place. One of the last victims who perished
here, was the unfortunate _General Mallet_, who whilst the oppressor of
his country was still contemplating the devastation which he had
occasioned in Russia, sought to deliver France from so galling a yoke;
and he is said to have been possessed of many of the qualities
necessary for so honourable and arduous an undertaking; but the reign of
Buonaparte was still to continue for eighteen months longer; and he who
had the resolution to attempt, had not the satisfaction of seeing, its
subversion. In his way to the place of execution, being assailed by a
hired mob with cries of 'Vive l'Empereur,' "_yes, yes_!" said the
General, "_cry "long live the Emperor" if you please, but you will only
be happy when he is no more_." He would not suffer his eyes to be
covered; and displayed in his last moments a fortitude, that will cause
his memory to be long revered by the enemies of despotic power.

The _Museum of French Monuments_ is one of the numerous institutions
produced by the Revolution. This place contains a collection of those
_tombs_ which escaped the fury of a _Revolution_ that at once proscribed
both _royalty_ and _religion_. They were deposited here as models of
art, which did honour to the republic, by proving the genius of its
statuaries and sculptors, (the works being classed according to the
centuries in which they were made;) and as the busts of the most
celebrated and declared enemies of Christianity, are every-where
interspersed, the design seems obviously to have been to inculcate the
principles which they inculcated; if, indeed, they acted upon any
principle, each fearing to acknowledge the superiority of the other. To
_doubt_ was their criterion of wisdom (but although Hume said, that even
when he doubted, he was in doubt whether he doubted or not, he does not
appear to have once doubted that he was wrong in his attacks on
religion,) and they only united in ridiculing that _belief in a Supreme
Being_, which has been received, as it were instinctively, by all
nations, however savage, and which has been the consolation of the best
and wisest of mankind.

Any believer in religion, or any one who has not by perverted reasoning,
brought his mind _really_ to doubt its divine truths, (for men are but
too apt to admit even the arguments of absurdity, when they tend to
absolve them from duties, which they would avoid,) cannot but
experience a sentiment of regret at this violation of the ancient
consecrated burial places, (where the contemplation of these emblems of
mortality was calculated to inspire a beneficial awe;) and of sorrow,
that as religion is by law restored in France, these monuments, many of
which have been taken from the royal burying place of St. Denis, should
not be replaced in the churches from which they were taken in those
calamitous times.

I here saw the tomb of Cardinal Richelieu, which was originally in the
college of the Sorbonne. It is the work of the celebrated _Gerardin_,
and is a fine piece of sculpture. Many of the other monuments are very
elegant; but it would be tedious to enter into further details.

In walking through the Rue Colbert, a French gentleman of my
acquaintance pointed out to me the house in which _Louvois_ had resided,
and declared his opinion, that that minister had proved one of the
greatest causes of the ruin of France; he followed up his assertion by a
declamation of such length, that I shall not attempt to collect his
arguments, but leave my readers to come to their own conclusions on the

I had intended visiting those vast _catacombs_ which extend under a
great part of Paris, and which now serve as burial places, but was
induced to desist from the undertaking by the advice of a person who had
made the experiment, and had suffered much more from the state of the
air in those caverns, than he had been gratified by the curiosity of the
scene. I was in the evening induced to visit a scene of a very different
nature, and accompanied a party to the _Gardens of Tivoli_, in the Rue
Lazare. This was, before the Revolution, the property of M. Boutin,
formerly treasurer of the marine, who had spared no expense in it's
decoration. The extent is about fourteen acres, and it much resembles

The vast proportion which the military officers bear in all companies,
and in all the public places here, cannot fail to be remarked by a
stranger, and proves the success of the ex-Emperor, in his endeavours
to render the French merely a military people. Under the _old regime_,
no military uniforms were permitted to be worn in public places; but at
present such a regulation would be quite impracticable. At present the
military take a great lead in society, which has, perhaps, suffered more
than is generally thought by the civil commotions of the state.

Wishing to be able to form some idea of the military events which led to
the capture of Paris, I went by the gate of St. Martin to the other
places which were connected with those memorable operations. It was on
the 30th of March, 1814, that the allied armies, consisting of nearly
200,000 men, attacked the heights of Bellevue, St. Chaumont, and
Montmartre; the cannonade continued from six in the morning until half
past three o'clock in the afternoon, and after a bloody combat in the
plains of Villette, where they were opposed by 30,000 French troops, a
suspension of arms was signed a little after five o'clock. The next day
about noon, the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia entered Paris by
the barrier of Villette, at the head of 50,000 men. A French writer
remarks, that Montmartre is rendered famous by the gallant-stand made
there by a _small body_ of French troops against the _whole_ of the
allied army. The French cannot bring themselves to allow that their
nation has the worst in any contest. They are now, however, sensible
that they have been defeated, which no doubt conduces greatly to their
present ill humour. Vanity is their domineering passion, and this
Buonaparte always contrived to flatter so successfully, by concealing
unwelcome truths, and exaggerating success, that he is _still regretted_
by a large number of persons, who hate the present government for the
openness of their conduct, as 'after being so long accustomed to the
_fabulous histories_ with which they were amused by their late ruler,
they have a contempt for that candour which informs them of their
_actual_ situation, and which would excite the approbation of a nation
possessed of a less degree of vanity. A great love of novelty is also
very conspicuous in the French character. I think it was Frederic the
Great, who observed in writing to d'Alembert, 'that to please the
French, they should have every two years a new king.'

From the heights of Montmartre, a vast and magnificent panorama is
presented to the view. Nearly the whole of Paris is seen from thence,
and a great extent of country terminated by distant mountains. Those who
wish to have a good general idea of Paris, should not fail to ascend
this eminence. In point of size, Paris does not appear to me to be more
than half the extent of London, when seen from Hampstead or Greenwich.
It was from this situation that the Emperor Alexander first surveyed
Paris, and he probably was struck with the shewy appearance of the
_gilded_ dome of the Invalids, but perhaps was uninformed that it was
from the _Kremlin_, and whilst surrounded by the flames of Moscow, that
Buonaparte, gave orders for the commencement of this new and
_extravagant decoration_ to increase the splendour of Paris. But the
magnanimous perseverance of Alexander in the contest, was at last
rewarded, and he saw from Montmartre that proud city, which had so often
exulted at hearing of the capture of the other capitals of Europe, lying
in his power. Without the capture of Paris in its turn, the triumph of
Europe for the injuries which were inflicted in most parts of it, by the
French, so long the willing instruments of Buonaparte's tyranny, had
been incomplete.

Alexander's entry into Paris was haired as a liberation from that
despotism, which its inhabitants, had not themselves the energy to shake
off, and which they had acquiesced in or abetted for so many successive

That Alexander should have triumphed over Buonaparte, was fortunate
for the _liberty_ of _France_, but it was also indispensable to the
_peace of Europe_.

The establishment of M. Delacroix, Rue Croix-des Petits Augustins, to
remedy the defect of nature by a gymnastic process, is unique in France.
I shall give the prospectus a place here; and feeling my inability to
_do it justice_, shall not attempt to translate it.

"Dans la Rue des "Vieux Augustin" est l'etablissement de _M.
Delacroix_ Mecanicien Bandagiste Gymnastique pour redresser les
defauts de la nature, particulierement chez les femmes. On y
remarque _Le Mat_ qui est une Colonne en forme de Mat, autour
duquel se trouvent des echellons servant a monter pour developer
les hanches et la poitrine; _les Colonnes_ ou piliers, exercice
servant a mettre le corps droit. Le _Balancier_ sert a redresser la
Colonne vertebrale ou epine du dos. Les _Barilles_ pour redresser
la tete les epaules et les hanches. Le _Balancoir_ est pour
maintenir la tete et les reins droits quand on est assise. Le puits
la _balle_ et la _manivelle_ pour donner de la force a une epaule
faible. _L'Echelle_ pour redresser les epaules. Le _Cheval_ pour
apprendre a y monter, et tenir le corps dans un etat naturel.
Le _Jube_ pour redresser la tete et donner des graces; les _Plombs_
pour apprendre a marcher avec grace. Le _Fauteuil_ pour lever un
cote de la poitrine qui seroit plus bas que l'autre; le soufflet
pour donner un exercise regulier a toutes les parties du corps.

Ce mecanicien habile fait des mains dont les doigts ont les
mouvements naturels; et son establissement est l'unique en France."

To judge, from this description, it should seem as if those to whom
nature has not been propitious, or those who have been deprived by
accident of a limb, are culpably negligent if they do not apply at an
institution which professes to remedy some of the most desperate
calamities incident to human nature. With what probability of success,
however, such an application would be attended, it is not possible for
me to determine. I copy the prospectus of the Professor without being
able to judge myself of his proficiency.

I accepted one morning a proposal to accompany a gentleman to the
Tuilleries to see the King go to mass (which he had been prevented by
the gout from doing, at least in public for some time); we found a great
number of spectators had assembled on the occasion in the hall through
which his Majesty was to pass, and which was lined with his _corps de
garde_. We had a considerable time to wait before he made his
appearance, and had ample leisure to survey the portraits of the
marshals of France, with which the apartment is decorated, as well as
with paintings representing many of Buonaparte's victories. His Majesty
appeared to be in excellent health, and received with much affability
several papers which were handed to him, and which he gave to a
gentleman in waiting. He was greeted repeatedly by cries of _Vive le
Roi_! and there is no doubt that by far the most respectable portion of
the French sincerely wish him prosperity. I trust they may prove
sufficiently strong to keep under those, who I fear are at least as
numerous a class, and who have not learned, by the experience of so many
years of confusion, to value the blessings of tranquillity when they
have at last obtained it, attended with the advantages of a mild

I believe it is agreed by all that the King has a good heart. His regard
for England, which has done so much for his family, is highly to his
honour; and I hear he testifies it upon all occasions. Lately, at a
consultation of his physicians, one of them having said he feared a long
residence in a damp climate, had contributed to increase the attacks of
the gout, the King interrupted him by saying, "Ah! Monsieur P----, ne
dites pas du mal d'Angleterre." The conduct of his Majesty, since his
restoration to the crown of his ancestors, proves him not to be
deficient in either ability or resolution; and there perhaps never was a
period which called for a greater exertion of both than the present. The
other day Paris was thrown into considerable alarm by the arrival of
intelligence from Nevers, that the garrison there had declared for
Buonaparte. In consequence every precaution was resorted to on the part
of government, and the guards in Paris were doubled; but happily nothing
occurred to disturb the public tranquillity. The number of discontented
spirits which the Revolution has left afloat, and which it would not
require any very considerable share of artifice to raise against any
government, will require for a long time the exertion of the utmost
vigilance on the part of the present administration. Louis might have
been addressed with propriety, on his arrival in France, in the
admonitory words of Galba to Piso:

"Imperaturus es hominibus, qui nec totam servitutem pati possunt
nec totam libertatem."

On my departure from the Tuilleries my friend conducted me to a famous
glass manufactory, where I saw several mirrors of very large dimensions,
and also a _staircase of glass_, which had a splendid effect, and was
the first thing of the kind I had ever seen. The balustrades were of
glass, supported by steel, and had a particularly handsome appearance.
The number of theatres in Paris have of late years much increased, and
amount at present to eight or ten. The Opera Italien is justly
celebrated as the best in Europe; but I received more entertainment at
the Theatre Francois, in witnessing the representation of one of the
admirable comedies of Moliere. The Theatre de l'Odeon is curious from
its construction, but the minor theatres on the Boulevards, de Gaiete,
and des Varieties, are in general the most frequented; and, except on
extraordinary occasions, the Theatre Francois is by no means fully
attended. A stranger in Paris is surprised at the number of _bureaux
d'ecrivains_, or offices for writing, which abound in all parts of the
town, where all materials for writing are provided for a few sous, and
where persons attend to write letters, in any language, to the dictation
of such as are not skilled in the graphic art.

* * * * *


I resolved not to take my departure from Paris without visiting some of
the numerous royal palaces situated in its vicinity. St. Cloud first
claimed my attention, both from its proximity to Paris, and from its
having been for a considerable time the favourite residence of the
ex-ruler of France. Its situation is certainly one of the most striking
near the capital, and the views from it are both diversified and
extensive. The improvements made here by Buonaparte render it a most
agreeable residence, and display an extremely good taste. This palace is
at present occupied by the Prince of Conde. The approach to it from
Paris is very striking, through avenues of elms, with lamps at regular

I also visited Marli, which is chiefly remarkable for the machine which
raises water from the Seine to the height of five hundred feet. St. Cyr
was the retreat of Madame de Maintenon, and Malmaison was the residence
of Buonaparte, when first consul; but it is far inferior to St. Cloud.
The palace of St. Germain is in a situation inferior to none I had seen.
My expectations had however been particularly raised by the accounts I
had heard of Versailles, which has at all times been the object of the
admiration of the French; and it is certainly better suited to their
ideas of grandeur than to ours.

This palace is about four leagues distant from Paris. The approach to it
has nothing of that magnificence that I had been led to expect, and the
road is in bad repair. On my arrival, I found it was impossible to gain
admittance into the palace, which was undergoing a thorough repair,
rendered indispensable by neglect during the last twenty years. The
number of workmen employed is stated to amount to two thousand. It is a
vast pile of building, and certainly one of the most famous royal
residences in Europe. A Frenchman tells you with exultation of the vast
sums which have been expended in its construction, and thinks that a
sufficient proof of its magnificence. An Englishman, however, will very
naturally be out of patience at the praises bestowed on gardens laid out
in that taste which has been so long exploded in England, and cannot
help exclaiming with the poet--

"Lo! what huge heaps of littleness around!"

In front of the palace is a vast terrace which you mount with
considerable difficulty by innumerable flights of stairs. To occasion an
unexpected treat to the admirers of art, by excluding every thing
natural, the whole of this elevation is abundantly supplied with ponds
and water-works. The grand vista in front of the palace is formed into a
canal, and no description can give a more just idea of these boasted
gardens than the following lines of Pope; the _only_ difference being,
that the water-works of Versailles are put in motion the first Sunday
of every month, and remain stagnant the rest of the year.

"Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suffering eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain, never to be play'd,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade;
Here Amphitrite sails thro' myrtle bow'rs,
There gladiators fight or die in flow'rs;
Unwater'd see the drooping sea-horse mourn,
And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urn."

What pleased me most at Versailles was the great number of large orange
and lemon trees.

The forest of Versailles is of great extent, and abounds in wood, but
there is little of what would be considered in England as _good timber_.

Windsor and Versailles have been often compared, although no two places
can possibly differ more completely than they do. To have again recourse
to the words of the poet, Windsor is a place,

"Where order in variety we see;
And where, tho' all things differ, all agree."

And, in my judgment, it is as far superior to Versailles as its forests
of oak are to the elms which surround that boasted palace.

I was permitted to see the royal stables. They are, it is said,
sufficiently large to contain 4000 horses, but are at present much out
of repair. The city of Versailles is large and well built, but has a
melancholy and deserted appearance, having lost nearly half its
population since it has ceased to be a royal residence, and the present
number of inhabitants does not exceed 30,000. The Grand and Petit
Trianons deserve attention from having been the favourite retreats of
the late unfortunate Queen of France; but few traces of the taste once
displayed in their decoration now remain. They are situated within the
limits of the forest of Versailles, which is said to be twenty leagues
in circuit. At Sevres, which is celebrated for the beauty of its
porcelain manufactory, I observed workmen employed in finishing a new
and handsome bridge of nine arches over the Seine, in place of the old
one which is hardly passable. Near the barrier of Passy is a
carpet-manufactory, which was established there by Henry the Fourth.
This barrier is thought to be the most striking entrance to Paris. In my
excursions in the vicinity of Paris, I observed that the harvest was
extremely abundant, but the majority of those employed in collecting it
were women. I was informed that last year the greatest difficulty was
experienced in saving the harvest for want of a sufficient number of
hands. I saw, at a distance, the castle of Vincennes, where Buonaparte
(who had caused the removal of every vestige of the Bastile) had
dungeons constructed many feet under ground, and with walls ten feet
thick. This place is distinguished for the atrocious murder of the Duke
d'Enghien. I had occasion to observe, both in the streets of Paris and
on the roads in its vicinity, that there were but few _private_
carriages to be seen, and those by no means handsome; but the roads are
covered with _cabriolets_, of which there are 2,800 in Paris, besides
about 2,000 fiacres, or hackney-coaches. The fare for an hour is only
thirty sous.

As I had by this time pretty well satisfied my curiosity, in visiting
the objects in Paris that principally arrest the attention of a
traveller who has not leisure to dwell longer than is indispensable in
one place, I began to be impatient to exchange the continual bustle of
that city--its

"Fumum opes strepitumque,"

for those romantic and enlivening scenes in which Switzerland stands
without a rival, and is, as it were, by _acclamation_, allowed to
surpass the other countries of Europe.

I therefore attended at the office for foreign affairs, and obtained the
signature of the Prince of Benevento (for about ten francs) in addition
to the signature of our own distinguished minister, Lord Castlereagh. I
was told it was necessary also to have my passport visited by the police
before leaving Paris; and my landlord offered his services to arrange
that affair for me. I however recollected Dr. Franklin's maxim, "If you
would have your business clone, go; if not, send," and went accordingly
to the office myself.

These affairs being arranged, so as to permit my passing without
molestation through the interior of France, I quitted Paris without any
sensations of regret at leaving a place which, highly as I had been
pleased with many of the great objects which it contains, I cannot but
consider, when curiosity is once gratified, to be an unpleasant
residence. I took the road to Fontainbleau, distant about thirty-seven
English miles; a place formerly only remarkable for its castle, situated
in a forest of about 30,000 acres, and often visited by the Kings of
France, for the amusements of the chace; but which will hold in history
a distinguished page, and be visited in future ages as being the scene
where it pleased Providence to terminate a tyranny unexampled in the
history of the world. It is worthy of remark, that in this very castle,
in which the venerable Head of the Romish Church was so long and so
unjustly detained a captive, his once formidable oppressor was obliged
to abdicate that authority which he had so long usurped and abused; and
the _11th of April 1814_, will be long hailed over Europe as the epoch
when liberty, peace and good order were restored to its inhabitants,
after the long and stormy reign of oppression, war and anarchy had so
long precluded the expected time of which it was impossible entirely to
despair--when Europe, so long a prey to dissension, should again be
united as one common family. These hopes have at last been realized; the
evils of the French Revolution (more productive of misfortune than the
fabled box of Pandora) have in a manner been surmounted; and we have
only further to wish, that the nations who have restored tranquillity to
Europe, may continue to act with the moderation for which they have
hitherto been distinguished [guess: distinguished].

It was natural, in beholding a place rendered memorable by such great
events,--events which are probably destined to fix the fortunes of
succeeding centuries, that the mind should dwell with more than common
attention on the scene, and give itself up to the reflections it was
calculated to produce. My thoughts were principally engaged in
considering the very opposite characters of Pius VII. and of Buonaparte.

In the first we see united all that can give dignity to an exalted
station, or that is praiseworthy in private life. We see him disposed as
much as possible to conciliation, and even persuaded by his cardinals to
cross the Alps in the most inclement season notwithstanding his advanced
age, to crown the _Usurper of France_, in the expectation of advancing
the interests of religion, by consenting to submit to a power which then
appeared but too firmly established. The hopes of the pope were not
realized; Buonaparte soon forgetting past services, made demands which
he well knew could not be complied with, and amongst them that his
holiness should declare war against England, and that too without the
slightest motive for such a proceeding on his part, as he stated in his
manifesto against the outrages of Buonaparte, a paper which must affect
all who peruse it, and excite their regret that the pope was not in a
situation effectually to preserve that independence which did such
honour to his heart.

The new-made emperor was not, however, to be reasoned with but by
_force_; and in about four years after the pope had placed the diadem on
his head, he caused him to be removed from his capital as a prisoner,
and united the Ecclesiastical States to the dominions of France. The
spirit of the pope was still unsubdued, and he refused, for himself and
his cardinals, all offers of subsistence from the usurper of their
possessions. When urged to come to some agreement with Buonaparte, he
answered that his regret at having accepted the late _Concordat_, would
be a sufficient security against his being again deceived. And when the
cardinals represented the evils which might result from his refusal, he
answered, "Let me die worthy of the misfortunes I have suffered." On the
23d of January, 1814, the pope was removed from Fontainbleau, as were
each of the seventeen cardinals, in custody of a _gend'arme_, and their
destination was kept secret. But on the 5th of April following, the
provisional government of France gave orders, that all obstacles to the
return of the pope to his states might be removed; and, after five years
of confinement and outrage, Pius VII. returned to his capital, to
receive the reward of that _firmness_ and _moderation_, which, blended
so happily in his character, will long render it an object of

I next considered the character of the tyrant, who so long and so
successfully triumphed over prostrate Europe, England alone preserving
unimpaired that liberty, which she was destined to be the means of
diffusing to rival nations. It would be absurd to deny Buonaparte the
praise due to the matchless activity, and consummate skill, with which
he conducted the enterprizes suggested by his boundless ambition; and
which made him the most formidable enemy with whom England ever had to
contend; but his cruelty, his suspicion, and his pride, (which made him
equally disregard those laws of honour, and those precepts of morality,
respected by the general feelings of mankind), as they excited the
indignation of thinking men, prevented any pity at his fall. Such a man
was destined only to excite astonishment, not admiration; and that
astonishment could not fail of being greatly diminished, by his want of
extraordinary resources, when placed in a situation, upon the
possibility of which he had disdained to calculate.

His continued aggressions raised Europe against him from without, and he
was overthrown, because he had completely disgusted the fickle people,
whom he had made the instruments of his ambition.

It would surely require the pen of _a Tacitus_ to delineate with
accuracy the character of such a man, who, to use the words of the
lamented Moreau, "had covered the French name with such shame and
disgrace, that it would be almost a disgrace to bear it; and who had
brought upon that unhappy country the curses and hatred of the

His ambitious wars are supposed to have occasioned the destruction of
nearly _four millions of men_, whom he considered merely as instruments
to accomplish his extravagant views; and he is reported to have said
repeatedly, that "it signified little whether or not he reigned over the
French, provided he reigned over France."

He delighted in carnage, and speaks in one of his bulletins of "800
pieces of cannon dispersing death on all sides," as presenting "a most
admirable spectacle."

On Buonaparte's arrival from Egypt, he found things as favourable for
his projected usurpation as his most sanguine hopes could have imagined.
In the eighteen months which had preceded his arrival, there had arisen
no fewer than four constitutions, and the French might well exclaim,
"They have made us so many constitutions, that we have now none
remaining!" Wearied out with the succession of sanguinary factions, each
endeavouring to establish itself by proscriptions, banishments, and
confiscations, France submitted without opposition to the government of
a ruler, who seemed sufficiently strong to keep all minor tyrants in
subjection; and, despairing of freedom, sought only an interval of
repose. This hope was, however, not destined to be realized, for
Buonaparte soon pursued all those who presumed to oppose his schemes in
the slightest degree with astonishing eagerness, and those who submitted

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