the heart of man! to restore to all the enjoyments of life, and to the
dignity of rational beings, hapless creatures, doomed by the caprice of
Nature to inexpressible feeling and irremediable ignorance, is perhaps
the highest and proudest effort of human contrivance.
Of all which I have yet beheld at Paris, this is to me the most
interesting sight. Other objects strike the imagination, but this moves
the heart. Farewell, my dear sir, the night is far advanced; but I could
not place my head on the pillow, till I had attempted to communicate to
you, how much I had been pleased with this admirable and philanthropic
institution.
I am, &c.
LETTER VII.
A _thé_ or evening party.—French remarks on Shakspeare, and Mr.
Fox.—Dullness and pedantry of parisian society.
Paris, december 3d, 1801 (3 frimaire.)
MY DEAR SIR,
I have just received your last letter, and as you complain, that I am
not sufficiently minute in my descriptions of private society, I will
endeavour to satisfy your curiosity, by giving a faithful account of an
assembly, or _thé_, as it is called here, to which I was invited a few
evenings since.
The lady, at whose house this entertainment was given, belonged to
the old court; but having remained in France during the whole of the
revolution, has preserved her property. I drove to her hotel, about eight
in the evening, and after passing through a dark and dirty antichamber,
in which her servants and those of her guests sat very quietly, while
I passed, without moving from their seats, I found my way, not without
difficulty, into the “_salon_,” or drawing room: In this apartment, the
walls of which bore the faint semblance of having been painted white,
some thirty years before, and on which shattered remnants of tarnished
gold might still be discovered, I perceived near the fire, the lady
of the mansion. She half rose from her seat, as I approached, and
after a short “bon jour monsieur,” continued in a whisper, an earnest
conversation, in which she was engaged with an old gentleman, who,
as I have since learnt, was a _ci-devant duke_, lately returned from
emigration. As I was left entirely to myself, (for I was introduced to no
one) I had ample time to examine every thing around me. The room, sombre
in itself, was rendered still more so, by a patent lamp suspended in the
middle, which was the only light I perceived, and which simply answered
the purpose of making “darkness visible.”
There were about twenty or thirty persons assembled, of different ages,
and of different sexes. Having heard so much of french gayety, I was
astonished at the melancholy countenances I saw around me, and at the
general stupidity of this party. In one corner was placed a whist table,
at which, two _ci-devant_ countesses, a member of _l’ancienne académie
française_, and a former _financier_ were disputing for _sous_. There
were round the fire, two rows of _fauteuils_, or arm chairs, in which
the ladies not occupied with cards, were seated in awful state. Two or
three young men dressed _à l’anglaise_, with the preposterous addition of
immense neckcloths, ear rings, and half a dozen under waistcoats, lounged
about the middle of the room, and now and then caught a glimpse at their
favourite persons, in an adjoining glass. The fire was monopolized by a
party of zealous disputants, who, turning their backs to the company,
and talking all together, formed a separate group, or rather a debating
society, round the chimney. From the loudness of their voices, and the
violence of their gestures, I supposed they were discussing some great
national question, and expecting to gain much useful intelligence,
listened with all the painful attention of extreme curiosity. I soon
discovered, to my no small astonishment, that it was not the fate of the
nation, but the accuracy of an expression, which excited their zeal. The
abbé Delille had, it seems, in a poem lately published, used this phrase,
“Je n’entends que silence, je ne vois que la nuit[30].”
Whether it was possible “to hear silence,” and “see night,” was the great
subject of dispute: and the metaphysical distinctions, nice definitions,
and pedantic remarks, which this question excited, formed a curious
specimen of the french character. Some of the ladies joined in the
debate; and I know not to what height it might have been carried, had
not the arrival of the _thé_ interrupted the orators, and stopped the
conversation, with a subject more agreeable to the general taste.
At twelve o’clock, the beverage I have mentioned, which the french think
unwholesome at all times, and which even the english fear to take at so
late an hour, was placed near the fire, on a large table, surrounded with
cakes, creams, custards, a large tureen of soup, and a bowl of punch, the
party crowded round the table, and helped themselves to the refreshments
it contained. When the ceremony was over, those who did not return to the
card tables, entered into conversation; and as literary subjects were
still the favourite theme, a young man, with a pompous manner, and a
solemn tone of voice, said, addressing himself to me, “Is it true, sir,
that there are englishmen, so blinded by national prejudice, as to prefer
_votre bizarre_ Shakspeare[31], to our divine Racine?” Endeavouring to
avoid a discussion, which I knew the answer I was inclined to give would
create, I contented myself with observing, that Shakspeare and Racine
were such different authors, that it was absurd to compare them. “As
well,” said I, “might you draw a resemblance between the beauties of
Switzerland, and those of Versailles.” “The proper simile,” retorted the
first speaker, “would be between Versailles and a barren heath, on which
some few beautiful plants may have been accidentally scattered, by the
capricious hand of nature.” The whole circle joined in the triumph,
which my antagonist supposed he had gained, and I in vain attempted
to recapitulate, and to translate some of the striking passages of
Shakespear. Though all condemned our “heaven-inspired poet,” I soon
perceived, that few had ever read, and none understood the sublime work
which they presumed to criticise.
“Speaking of english authors,” cried the member of the ci-devant académie
française, “makes one think of english orators. I see, by Chateau-Brian’s
account of England, that the cause of Mr. Fox’s retirement from
parliament, has been at last discovered; and that it arose from his
mental powers having been weakened by the effect of excessive drinking.
To this I suppose one must attribute his late unwarrantable attack on the
house of Bourbon.”
Astonished at this extraordinary assertion, I took the liberty of
assuring the gentleman, that Mr. Fox’s talents were as perfect as
ever, and that his last speech was one of the finest efforts of human
reasoning. “_Pardonnez_,” cried the academician. “Mr. Fox could never
reason. He was indeed once a fine declaimer, but as to the powers
of argument, he never possessed them.” I was ridiculous enough to
combat this absurd opinion, and to assure him, that there was not an
englishman, (whatever his political sentiments might be) who would not
willingly bear testimony to the wonderful argumentative talents of the
extraordinary man in question.
I talked in vain, the whole company joined with the academician, who
_pour toute réponse_[32], said, “_C’est Mr. Pitt, qui sait raisonner,
mais pour Mr. Fox il déclame joliment, voilà tout son talent. Vous me
permetterez_ de savoir!” assuming a look of great dignity, “_parceque_
c’est moi _qui ai traduit ses discours._” So saying, he turned away, and
soon after the company dispersed.
Can I give you a stronger instance of the _taste_ and _justice_, with
which the french pronounce on the merits of our authors, and public
characters?
If Shakspeare is not a poet, nor Mr. Fox an orator, where are we to look
for examples of perfection?
Thus it is on every subject in this country. The french suppose, that
they understand english books, and english politics, much better than we
do; and this is not the first lesson which I have received. I have often
been contradicted on constitutional, as well as literary questions; and
I have always found, that the company supported not the opinion of the
native, whose local knowledge deserved some little credit, but the bold
assertion of their countryman, who was generally believed and applauded,
in proportion to the extravagance and singularity of the doctrine which
he laid down.
I forgot to mention, that great offence being taken at Mr. Fox’s remarks
on the old government, a gentleman took great pains to persuade me, that
_l’ancien régime_ was the freest constitution under the sun. You will not
be surprised to hear, that he did not make me a convert to his opinion,
and that I assured him, if such was a free government, I hoped it would
be long, very long, before England should possess it.
This evening’s entertainment gave me altogether but a very unfavourable
opinion, both of french society, french taste, and french gallantry.
There was no mirth, no general conversation, and scarcely any
intercourse between the men and women. As to Mrs. ⸺, she was left to
the uninterrupted enjoyment of her own thoughts, for no person took the
trouble of addressing her. Her english dress, however, did not escape the
criticism of the ladies; and my pronunciation was equally a source of
amusement to the gentlemen. I shall only add, that if this be a specimen
of french society, I may obtain much information at Paris; yet I shall
certainly receive but little pleasure from my journey.
I am, &c.
LETTER VIII.
Bonaparte.—The monthly review or parade in the court of the
Thuilleries.
Paris, december the 6th, 1801, (15 frimaire.)
MY DEAR SIR,
My curiosity is at last gratified. I have seen Bonaparte. You will
readily conceive how much pleasure I felt to day, in beholding, for the
first time, this extraordinary man, on whose single exertions the fate of
France, and in many respects that of Europe, has for some time depended.
I was fortunate enough to obtain places in one of the apartments of
_Duroc_, the governor of the palace, from the windows of which I saw
the review to the greatest advantage. It is impossible to describe the
impatience with which we awaited the appearance of Bonaparte. Mrs. ⸺ well
observed, that her eyes ached with looking.
As soon as the court of the Thuilleries, (that is to say the ground,
which is enclosed with iron railings, near the Carousel,) was filled
with the different regiments, who arranged themselves with wonderful
skill, and without the least confusion, notwithstanding the limited space
allotted them, the generals descended from their horses, went up stairs
into the palace, and, after some little delay, conducted Bonaparte to the
door. He instantly sprang on his white charger, (which waited for him at
the gate) and commenced the review. As he passed several times before
the window where I sat, I had ample time to examine his countenance,
his figure, his dress, and his manner. His complexion is uncommonly
sallow, his countenance expressive but stern, his figure little but well
made, and his whole person, like the mind which it contains, singular
and remarkable. If I were compelled to compare him to any one, I should
name Kemble, the actor. Though Bonaparte is much less in size, and less
handsome than that respectable performer, yet in the construction of the
features, and in the general expression, there is a strong resemblance.
There is, however, such originality about the appearance of the first
consul, that, without having seen him, it is difficult to form an idea of
his person. The picture of Bonaparte at the review, exhibited some time
back in Piccadilly, and the bust in _Sèvre china_, which is very common
at Paris, and which has probably become equally so in London, are the
best likenesses I have seen. As to his dress, he wore the grand _costume_
of his office, that is to say a scarlet velvet coat, richly embroidered
with gold, to this he had added leather breeches, jockey boots, and a
little plain cocked hat, the only ornament of which was a national
cockade. His hair unpowdered was cut close in his neck.
After riding through the ranks, and receiving the salutes of the
officers, he passed by every regiment, the colours of which were lowered
as he went on. He then placed himself in the middle of the parade, and
his generals and aides-de-camp having formed a group around him, he
distributed swords and firelocks of honour to such officers and soldiers,
as in different campaigns had deserved them. Berthier, the companion
of his victories, and now minister of war, presented one by one these
articles to Bonaparte, who having read the inscription which was engraved
on each, recording the action by which it was deserved, delivered with
his own hands the respective badges of honour. After this ceremony was
over, the different regiments passed by the first consul, and the captain
of each company or troop saluted him in passing. The cavalry went in full
gallop, and as they approached him stopped with wonderful neatness. Thus
concluded the review. He then rode with his officers to the palace gate,
dismounted, and retired to his apartments, followed by the generals and a
strong detachment of men.
The _spectacle_ was altogether extremely brilliant. The windows of the
palace, of the gallery of the Louvre, and of all the adjoining houses
were filled with ladies elegantly dressed, and the iron gates which
separate the court from the palace, were surrounded by the people. I
shall say nothing of the discipline of the troops, not being a military
man, and consequently little conversant with such matters. I shall only
speak of what struck the eye. The consular guards are the handsomest
men I ever saw, scarcely any are less than six feet high, and if we
may believe the report of persons connected with the government, every
individual in the corps owes his situation to long service, or some
distinguished act of valour. Their uniform is a long coat of fine blue
cloth, faced with white, and edged with red, with a yellow button, on
which is written “_garde des consuls_.” They wear white waistcoats and
breeches, and a fur cap, with a gilt plate, on which appears the same
inscription as that on the buttons. “_La garde consulaire à cheval_,” or
consular horse guard, wears the same uniform as the foot of that service.
The dragoons are dressed in green, with a casque, from which is suspended
a large braid of hair.
Several regiments of the line, which formed part of the review, have
been highly distinguished during the war, particularly the celebrated
_demi-brigade_, which at Marengo is said to have saved the life of
Bonaparte, when in the ardour of battle he had exposed himself to
almost certain destruction. These regiments were ill dressed, the men
were little, and their whole appearance was, when compared with the
consular guard, far from favourable. The _guides_ commanded by the young
Beauharnois, (madame Bonaparte’s son) were very elegantly dressed in
scarlet hussar uniforms, and mounted on light bay horses, splendidly
caparisoned. Generally speaking, the horses of the cavalry were very
indifferent, excepting one fine regiment of blacks, which was commanded
by Louis Bonaparte, the third brother of the consul.
As soon as Bonaparte left the ground the regiments began to file off by
different gates, in the same good order in which they had arrived, and
though nearly ten thousand men had been on the parade, in less than a
quarter of an hour not an individual remained.
The generals wear blue uniforms, richly embroidered, with tricoloured
sashes. The aides-de-camp are very handsome young men, dressed in blue
jackets, long pantaloons, and hussar cloaks, the whole almost covered
with gold. I remarked amongst them Lauriston, who took the preliminary
ratification to London, and young le Brun, son of the third consul, who
at the battle of Marengo, behaved with uncommon valour, and received
in his arms the unfortunate and gallant Dessaix[33]. I make no apology
for the length of this letter, for knowing that you wished to have a
particular account of the consular reviews, I have been purposely as
minute as possible. These reviews regularly take place on the 15th of
every month, according to the republican calendar.
Adieu!
LETTER IX.
The tribunate.—Speech of _Portalis_ on presenting the _code
civil_ in the corps législatif.—Debate in the tribunate on the
same subject.
Paris, december the 20th, 1801, (29th frimaire).
MY DEAR SIR,
I went this morning to the _tribunate_, which holds its sitting in the
_ci-devant_ Palais royal, in order to hear discussed the proposed project
of civil laws. This reminds me, that by a strange and unaccountable
omission, I have not in any of my letters mentioned the speech, which the
celebrated Portalis delivered on the 24th of last month, in presenting
the measure to the _corps législatif_, and which speech I was so
fortunate as to hear. To remedy my neglect, I shall begin my letter with
mentioning what passed on that occasion; and shall conclude it with the
debate, which took place to day, on the same subject, in the tribunate.
Portalis is a man of grave, respectable appearance, about fifty years
old, and so shortsighted, as to be nearly blind. As soon as he ascended
the rostrum, the utmost silence prevailed, and the legislators seemed
to listen with that profound attention, which is only given to those
from whom we expect either amusement or instruction. As for me, I
received both from his discourse; and I do not remember to have been yet
so well contented with a public speaker in France. He spoke for rather
more than an hour and a half, without notes and without hesitation. He
explained with precision, the principles and the heads of the code,
which he was ordered to lay before the legislature; and while he was
clear and intelligible in every part of his speech, he was frequently
extremely eloquent. His principal aim seemed to be, as he expressed it,
“de profiter des lumières de notre temps, mais pas de les avancer[34].”
He particularly recommended a system of laws, corresponding with those
of other nations, and which should strengthen the ties of matrimony, and
the security of domestic happiness. Among the many strong expressions,
with which his speech abounded, I remarked the following. “_Pour aimer
le monde entier, on peut dire, il faut aimer premièrement sa patrie,
mais celui qui commencerait à aimer le monde entier, finira à n’aimer
aucun pays[35]. La philosophie a fait son devoir, c’est à vous, citoyens
législateurs, d’achever le votre. La philosophie commence à faire le
bonheur des hommes, mais c’est la législation qui l’acheve, &c._” The
legislature ordered his speech to be printed, and adjourned.
To day this important question was debated in the tribunate; and I must
confess, that the expectations, which I had formed, were not a little
disappointed. I did not, it is true, flatter myself with the idea of
hearing either a Fox, a Pitt, a Sheridan, or a Mirabeau; but I imagined,
that among the members of the only deliberative assembly, now in France,
some few men would be found capable of discussing with sense, argument,
and extended views, a measure so important, not only to the present
happiness of the country, but to that also of the latest posterity. It
would be too presumptuous to say, that there are no such men in the
tribunate. On the contrary, I know, that there are some members of very
superiour knowledge, great genius, and liberal principles. I shall be
forgiven, however, for remarking, that the talent displayed on this
occasion was by no means equal to the dignity of the subject in question,
or worthy the assembly in which it was discussed. Five or six members
had put their names down, as intending to speak, and each was heard in
his turn. Nothing could be duller than these speeches; every one of which
was read from a written paper. A very ridiculous circumstance arose from
this manner of speaking. As each of the discourses had been previously
prepared, there was no reference to the arguments used in the debate;
and the advocates and opposers of the measure, equally disregarded, and
left unanswered, the remarks of those who happened to precede them in
the debate. I was not a little entertained with the conceit of one of
these lamp-oil orators, who discovered, that unless they restored _la
loi d’aubaine_[36], englishmen might buy up all the woods of France, and
thus, at one blow, deprive the government of its ships, and the people of
their fuel.
The only decent speech delivered on the occasion was by the celebrated
Boissy d’Anglass[37], who adduced some very strong reasons against the
proposed project. Speaking of England, he called the climate, “_ce climat
ténébreux et humide_[38].”
The expression may apply; but from the damp and foggy weather, which,
during some time has prevailed at Paris, I am apt to think, that it is
not exclusively descriptive of Great Britain.
After this tame and languid debate, more resembling the dull repetition
of school boy’s exercises, than the speeches of a great popular assembly,
the measure was rejected by a large majority.
I shall make no remarks on this decision, as doing so would necessarily
lead into a political discussion, which it is my great object to avoid.
The tribunes, being but one hundred in number, sit in a small hall
appropriate to their use. There is a gallery, which from the specimen of
eloquence displayed this day, I was not surprised to find nearly empty.
The tribunes wear a uniform of blue cloth, embroidered with silver,
hussar boots also edged with silver, white waistcoats, blue pantaloons,
and a tricoloured sash. They also begin and end their meetings with
military honours.
I am, &c.
LETTER X.
_Bal des étrangers_, (a public subscription ball).—Thinness of
the ladies’ dresses.
Paris, december 27th, 1801 (6th nivôse).
MY DEAR SIR,
I was last night at a public ball, given by a club or society, called,
“le salon des étrangers.” This is an establishment, formed on the plan of
our subscription houses in England, and lately opened in a handsome hotel
in _la rue Grange Batelière_, the windows of which look on the Boulevard.
It consists of frenchmen, who are admitted by ballot, and of foreigners
of all nations. The latter are received, (being introduced by a member)
on paying the annual subscription of five louis. The house is handsomely
furnished, and consists of several large rooms, which are open every
morning and evening, for the use of the subscribers. Besides the ordinary
games played in such sort of houses, there is a very excellent billiard
table, and a room fitted up for reading, in which are found periodical
publications, and all the newspapers, french, german, and english. It
was this latter circumstance which induced me to subscribe; and it is
here where I usually end my walk, and amuse myself for half an hour, in
running over the publications of the day.
The club or society, by way I suppose of gaining to its aid the
protection and interest of the fair, without which nothing is to be done
in France, or, to speak the truth, any where else, gives a ball, about
once in ten days, and it was at one of these assemblies, that I was
present last night.