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 _Chaussée 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
detection?
Perhaps the same argument holds in Paris as in London, against totally
suppressing the haunts of these depredators on society, _That if there
were no thieves there would be no thief-takers_; and the police are
content to keep within moderate bounds, a set of men who often
contribute to their emolument, and whom they fear to exterminate. It
must, however, be allowed, that in all large towns, however great may be
the vigilance of the police, there still must be abundance of the
followers 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
streets.
The Palais Royal consists of six squares, the chief of which is large
and handsomely built on piazzas. There are rows of trees in the centre,
but they by no means contribute to its beauty.
The shops under these arcades are many of them the most shewy in Paris;
and, as the owners pay a heavy rent for them, they take care to enhance
the price of their goods, so as not to carry on a losing concern. The
number of coffee-houses and restaurateurs for dining, in this square are
very numerous, and most of them are by no means moderate in their
prices, at least when we compare them with others in a different part of
Paris, or even near the Palais Royal; but it is not under these piazzas
that economy is to be practised. The _Café 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 _Café 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
atmosphere.
Often as the Palais Royal has been described, and forcibly as the scenes
which it exhibits have been depicted, yet I confess I do not think the
descriptions I have read of it by any means overcharged; and it may be
safely affirmed that there is no place in the world where the scene
varies so often in the twenty-four hours as it does here. I was
attracted by a notice, that the English newspapers were taken in at the
Cabinet Littéraire of M. Rosa; and, having paid my subscription, was
conducted into a spacious reading room, exclusively for the English
papers. The love of news is at all times natural; but at a distance from
home the mind is doubly anxious for the details of what is going on
there, and attaches an interest to particulars which, under other
circumstances, it would consider as too trivial to be worthy of
attention. During my stay on the Continent, I felt very forcibly the
truth of Dr. Johnson's observation, "_that it is difficult to conceive
how man can exist without a newspaper_." I was, however, for a
considerable time, _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
Nôitre_, and exhibit a specimen of the taste of that time, abounding in
statues, avenues, and water-works; but it must at the same time be
admitted, that the general effect produced is not devoid of
magnificence, which is heightened by the communication between these
gardens and the Champs Elysées, which forms a vista of great length, and
when illuminated, 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 _façade_ 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
castle.
Buonaparte's plans for the further improvement of this palace were on
the most extensive scale imaginable, as he intended to remove all the
buildings situated between the Louvre and the Tuilleries; and some idea
of the extent of the proposed area may be formed, when it is considered
that, in its present state, the 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.
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