MY DEAR SIR,
I went yesterday, with a small party of english friends, to Versailles,
and am just returned. I sit down now to give you the details of our
little excursion.
We stopped at _St. Cloud_, which is situate about half way, to view
that favourite palace of the unfortunate Lewis XVI, which will long be
celebrated in history, on account of the extraordinary meeting held there
by the council of five hundred, in the orangerie, or green house, which
ended in the establishment of the present consular government.
St. Cloud is undergoing a thorough repair, previously to its being
inhabited by Bonaparte. It is difficult, therefore, to form a proper
estimate, either of what it formerly was, or of what it may become. I do
not suppose it ever could have been on a very large scale. The gallery,
which still remains, is a fine room, and the view is extensive from
the large window, by which it is terminated. The walls are ornamented
with some excellent paintings (I believe) by “_le Brun_.” The chapel
is now in a state of disorder, and I did not examine the pictures which
it contains. The garden has been neglected, and can never have been
either very extensive, or very beautiful. Formal walks, and regular rows
of trees, constitute all its merit. As to the famous _jets d’eau_, or
cascades, they are still in high preservation; and the Parisians, on a
particular day in every year, come here, in splendid procession, to enjoy
this favourite sight. I only saw unmoved stone dragons, Neptunes, frogs,
swans, and griffons, from whose mouths these artificial waterfalls are
vomited. In this state, at least, a _jet d’eau_ forms but a disagreeable
ornament in a garden, which ought to unite every beauty of nature, and to
disdain every other.
The next object to St. Cloud, which attracted our attention, was the
famous manufactory of _Sèvre_. The beautiful porcelain, which bears
the name of this town, continues to be made here, under the immediate
protection of the government. We visited the shop, or _magazin_, and
were shown the several rooms of which it consists. In all of these were
tables, covered with specimens of china made here, but I cannot say
that they answered my expectation. They were neither as various, nor as
splendid, as one should suppose they would be, at the principal dépôt
of so renowned a manufactory. Probably, the situation in which France
has been during the revolution, did not afford a sufficient number of
purchasers, to induce the managers to keep by them any considerable
quantity of expensive articles. There were several busts of Bonaparte in
different sizes, all of which were strikingly resembling. There were also
great and small busts of Voltaire, Franklin, and Rousseau.
Going thence to Versailles, we drove to Rambrand’s, which is esteemed the
principal hotel; but finding, on our arrival, that the best rooms were
engaged, we changed our plan, and proceeded to _le Petit Trianon_ in the
park, which, formerly the much loved retreat of Marie Antoinette, has,
in the strange metamorphosis things as well as men have experienced in
France, become a common inn.
Having ordered dinner to be prepared in a small room, once celebrated as
the luxurious _boudoir_ of the ill fated queen, we proceeded to view the
curiosities of Versailles. The park has lost some trees, and has been
neglected. In other respects, it is not much altered. The _orangerie_[63]
still retains, unimpaired, all its beauty. We walked through long
avenues of orange trees, all of which are in high health and rich
foliage. The gardener assured us, that some of those which were of very
large dimensions, had been planted in the reign of Francis I.
We next visited the private library of the former kings of France,
situate in a separate house in the town. There is nothing very particular
in the building; but there were, above the several doors of the library,
extremely pretty paintings of the different capitals of Europe. We
were here shown a very beautiful collection of illuminated paintings,
representing the splendid _fête_ and _tournaments_ given by the
magnificent Lewis XIV.
Thence our guide wished to take us to the national manufactory of fire
arms, which is carried on with great activity in this town; but having
seen many acknowledgedly superior works of the same kind in England, we
declined visiting it, and proceeded at once to the palace. This superb
building has not suffered at all during the revolution; though, from
being neglected and uninhabited, it has contracted a kind of gloom,
which forcibly recals the misfortunes of its last possessors, and the
uncertainty of human grandeur. The magnificent furniture, which the
apartments once contained, has been removed; but the walls are not
without ornament, for the palace having been made (probably with the view
of preserving it from popular violence) a _musée central_, or _dépôt_
of the works of art, now possesses several valuable pictures, and a
few excellent statues. Among the former, I remarked some good _Claude
Loraines_, and two beautiful portraits by _Vincent_. The subject of one
was Henry IV of France; and the other, that of the celebrated president,
Molé. The latter is painted in his parliamentary robes, heroically
exposing his breast to the violence of the mob, and doing his duty,
unmoved by the poniards raised against him. You seem to hear him exclaim,
as history records he did, “La distance est grande de la main d’un
assassin au cœur d’un honnête homme[64].”
We walked through the vast suite of rooms, which, once the seat of
gayety, splendour, luxury, and royal magnificence, are now the abode of
solitude, and the monument of fallen grandeur.
It is unnecessary to state the many reflections which this spot created.
We failed not to visit the apartment which the unfortunate Lewis
XVI occupied on the 6th of october, and in which _Marie Antoinette_
took refuge. We were also shown the balcony window (now stopped up),
where that virtuous and ill fated princess, _madame Elizabeth_, with a
magnanimity truly heroic, presented herself, when the queen was called
for, and being taken for her, voluntarily subjected herself to all the
brutal violence of an irritated mob.
We likewise saw the opera house, built for the wedding of Lewis XVI,
when dauphin, and which, during the last reign, was sometimes used as a
theatre, and sometimes as a ball room. The apartment is still perfect,
but the scenes and decorations have been removed.
On leaving the palace, we visited several _jets d’eau_; but were
prevented from viewing the garden as particularly as we could have
wished, a violent shower of rain having overtaken us.
The waterworks and pleasure grounds appear to have been much neglected.
We dined at the _Little Trianon_, and slept there. The room, which fell
to my share, was that which the unhappy Lewis formerly occupied, and
the key of the door had attached to it a label, on which could still be
discovered, though half effaced, the words, “appartement du roi[65].”
In calling for our bill this morning, we found that this little inn
(ci-devant a royal residence) had two proprietors, one of whom lets
the apartments, and the other supplies the table in the character of
“traiteur.” With the charges of the latter we had no fault to find; but
the demand of the former was so ridiculously exorbitant, that have kept
the bill as a curiosity, of which I add the copy.
Petit Trianon logement[66].
Francs.
Trois appartemens de maître 36
Bougie 6
Bois 9
Quatre lits de domestique 12
--
Total 63
By way of reconciling us to this extravagant charge, the mistress of
the house sent her daughter to us, a very pretty girl, with the bill.
Our gallantry, however, did not subdue our reason, and we determined to
resist the demand. Our hostess having indignantly refused the half, which
we offered as amply sufficient, Mr. ⸺ and I proceeded to Versailles, in
pursuit of a _juge de paix_. After being sent to two or three justices,
who told us, that it was not within their jurisdiction, we at last,
in a miserable lodging, and at an obscure house, found the magistrate
of the division. His dress and his appearance were not superiour to
his residence, and from these united circumstances, we were far from
expecting that justice which, in the result, we experienced.
Having heard our case, he granted a citation, requiring the attendance
of the landlord; and, of course, suspended his decision till the arrival
of the other party. While our servant, who carried the summons, went to
execute it, we were present at a curious trial, the subject of which was
a small quantity, I believe a quart, of vinegar. The defendant was a
coarse masculine woman, at least sixty years of age, who, when she had
exhausted all her fund of eloquence, burst into tears, and talked of the
weak unprotected stare of an unhappy widow. The plaintiff was a dirty
ill looking fellow, with a witness of no better appearance. They all
talked together; and the justice, instead of being able to moderate their
violence, found it difficult to gain a hearing himself. After a wrangle
of an hour, and after swearing and counterswearing to the same fact, they
went away, without the business being finally settled.
What entertained me much, was, that these disputants, in the middle of
their harangues, turned round to my friend and me, and seemed anxious,
each in his turn, to convince us, by their eloquence, of the justice
of their respective cases; though we were not only strangers to the
business, but also to the laws on which this _important_ question was to
be decided.
When our good landlady arrived, her bill was produced; and the justice
having declared how exorbitant he thought it, she justified herself on
three grounds.
1st. That we had not made a previous agreement; and _ergo_, that she had
a right to demand whatever she pleased.
2dly. That she paid a great rent “à la nation[67];” and that, therefore,
“_la nation_” ought to permit her to make her guests pay a great rent for
their lodgings.
3dly. That “_l’ambassadeur de l’empereur Russe_[68],” having lodged at
her house only a week before, and not having objected to a charge of two
louis per bed, “_les milords anglois_” ought to think her present demand
extremely reasonable.
Notwithstanding this very able defence, the justice told her, that
the law would not allow her _d’écorcher les étrangers_[69]; and very
equitably decreed, that we should pay 36 instead of 63 _francs_. _Madame_
received, very indignantly, the sum allotted her, and went away in a
rage, declaring that, in future, no person should sleep at _le petit
Trianon_, who would not bind himself before hand to pay the price
which “son excellence l’ambassadeur de toutes les Russies” thought so
reasonable.
So concluded our trial, which I have detailed as characteristic of what
is to be expected at inns in France, if prior arrangements be not made by
travellers; and likewise as an honourable proof, that justice, though not
clad in ermine, is fairly administered. In going away, I was not a little
surprised to find, that there were no costs to pay, and that even the
summons had been issued gratuitously.
In England, where we possess so admirable a system of laws, how much are
its advantages diminished, by the expenses attendant on every process!
for, as a distinguished public man once well observed, though the temple
of justice be open to all, it is like the London tavern, only the
favourites of fortune dare approach its threshold.
In returning to our inn, we passed by the royal stables, which are still
kept up, and filled with horses. These are now appropriated to the use of
the officers of the army, who come here to be instructed in the menage,
and who employ, for this purpose, the _quondam_ riding school of the
king. The horses appeared, at least to an english eye, very indifferent.
We also saw here some arabians, lately arrived from Egypt. They are
extremely plain, lanky, and awkward; but the groom assured us, on being
asked if they were swift, “Oui, monsieur, comme les oiseaux.” (“Yes, sir,
as swift as birds.”) It was in vain to object to outward form, when we
learnt that these animals had the talent of flying. If, according to the
old jockey phrase, “no good horse can have a bad colour,” certainly no
horse who flies can be ugly.
Before we left Versailles, we visited the garden of _le petit Trianon_,
which is rented by our honest landlady, and which may be seen, by paying
a small sum for a ticket at the gate. It is kept in tolerable order, and
has still strong marks of that good taste, with which it was originally
made. It is really, and not nominally, an english garden; and would, even
in our happy island, be deemed as prettily laid out, as the smallness of
its extent would permit.
The little theatre, built by the queen, situate within the precincts
of these grounds, is still in existence, and has suffered no loss,
excepting that of the beautiful glasses with which the boxes were
once splendidly illuminated. The last object, to which we were led at
Versailles, was “le grand Trianon,” that favourite spot of Lewis XVI.
This elegant building is also unhurt; and the fine marble pillars,
which form the entrance, excited all our admiration. The poverty, into
which the inhabitants of the town have fallen, in consequence of the
revolution, is strikingly apparent. In every corner, we were surrounded
by half-starved and half-naked beggars, whose importunities were not a
little troublesome.
In returning to Paris, we took the road of St. Germain. The old castle
still remains; but its outward appearance was so gloomy, that we felt no
inclination to visit the interiour. If the french monarch intended to
pay a compliment to the pretender, in giving him a palace as nearly as
possible resembling St. James’s, his choice was admirable. The view from
the terrace is pretty, but by no means either as extensive, nor as rich,
as I expected from its celebrity.
In continuing our road, we saw the celebrated waterworks of Marly, which
are preserved in all their perfection. We likewise passed by the famous
aqueduct, and by _Malmaison_, the private seat of the first consul. The
latter has nothing very particular to distinguish it. It is simply a
moderately sized house, situate near the river, but so low, that it
cannot command a very extensive prospect. I hear, the grounds are well
laid out, and that the furniture of the house unites every thing which
taste could order, or luxury afford. We reached Paris about six o’clock;
and my first employment, after dinner, has been to write you this
account, as I know that Versailles, and its neighbourhood, are among the
number of objects, about which english curiosity is excited.
I am, &c.
LETTER XXV.
_Long Champ_, account of that annual promenade, date of its
origin, and of the great preparations made this year for
attending it.—The bustle, and gayety which it produced at Paris.
Paris, april the 16th, 1802, (27 germinal).
MY DEAR SIR,
All Paris has been alive for the last three days. Can you guess the
reason? Perhaps you will imagine, that the inhabitants, roused from
the state of lethargy, into which they have for some time back been
plunged, are beginning to give sincere but tardy marks of joy, at the
reestablishment of internal order, and external peace. Not at all, my
good friend. A subject, much more interesting to the parisians, is the
cause of the show and gayety so generally exhibited. Know, then, that
“_Long Champ_” has begun! I must now, like other learned commentators,
explain my explanation.
“Long Champ” is the name of a village, situate on the other side of the
“Bois de Boulogne,” of which latter place I spoke to you in a former
letter. In this village stood an abbey, or church; and one of the holy
fathers, some hundred years ago, had a voice of such extraordinary
sweetness, that, when high mass was performed, crowds of Parisians
flocked to hear him. His popularity was not confined to the lower class,
and the _noblesse_ shared the curiosity of the public. The fashion of
going to Long Champ so rapidly increased, that, in a short time, it was
no uncommon thing to see whole strings of splendid carriages at the door
of the convent. The road to this village became the favourite ride, and
vanity soon discovered, that it afforded an excellent opportunity of
displaying all the varieties of dress, and all the pomp of equipage.
In the course of a few years, it became an established custom, at this
particular period of the year, to make, during three days, not an humble
pilgrimage, but a splendid procession, to Long Champ. The mass and the
singer were soon forgotten; but the _promenade_ continued, and increased
every year in the magnificence of parade. To appear, on this occasion,
with becoming grandeur, the haughty, but often distressed noble, would,
for months beforehand, deprive himself of his ordinary comforts. To
rival “les dames de bonne compagnie[70]” in richness of dress, in show
of equipage, and blaze of diamonds, was the grand object of the admired
_belles_ of the opera house; and the means of doing so, was the exacted
price of those smiles, which the well beneficed prelate, or the wealthy
_financier_, were sometimes permitted to enjoy. The _Bourgeois_ and their
wives appeared in their humble _cabriolets_, but the former wore their
Sunday apparel; and the latter were loaded with all the tinsel finery,
which, during the course of the year, they had been able to collect. The
common people, or _la canaille_ (as they were then indignantly called),
were equally fond of this procession; and, at the risk of being run over,
crowded and completed the show, some dressed in tattered regimentals,
some in faded silk coats, and ragged embroidered waistcoats, and others
with bag-wig’s and wooden shoes.
Such was the custom during “l’ancien régime.” The amusements of the
french vanished with their old political institutions, and “horrendum
dictu,” Long Champ was long unobserved.
Robespierre, and after him the directors, forbade every thing which bore
the least resemblance to the customs of former times; but when Bonaparte
came into power, the system was instantly changed, and the people,
left to follow their own inclinations, greedily returned to all their
former diversions. “Long Champ” was of the number; and, since the 18th
of brumaire, it has been gradually recovering its ancient magnificence.
This year, from the reestablishment of peace, and the confluence of
foreigners, it was expected to be finer than ever; and vast preparations
have, during some weeks past, been making. Milliners tortured their fancy
to invent new fashions; mantuamakers passed whole nights without sleep,
in executing the orders which they had received; coachmakers exerted
themselves with all the art of their trade, and all the vanity of their
country, in endeavouring to imitate the carriages of the english; horses
were sent for from every part of the world; regiments of tailors were
employed in making coats for the _beaux_, habits for the ladies, and
laced jackets for their grooms; strings of boots were seen dangling on
the backs of porters in every quarter of the town; saddles were as much
in requisition, as if a great military project, by the means of cavalry,
had been in agitation; and I have been confidently assured, that no less
than three thousand pair of leather breeches were ordered on the occasion.
In consequence of these active preparations, and of “Long Champ” having
been, for some weeks back, infinitely more the subject of conversation
than either the peace, or the reestablishment of religion, I expected,
at least, a very brilliant sight. I must say, I was disappointed. The
only thing which pleased me very much, was the bustle which it produced
in the town, and the gayety with which it animated the faces of the
Parisians. For three days, every vehicle in the shape of a carriage,
and every animal which claimed the name of horse, has been dragged into
use, and become part of the procession. About two o’clock, a military
guard was posted at the beginning of the Champs Elisées, to preserve
order, (for nothing here is done without soldiers); and from that hour,
till some time after sunset, the crowd gradually increased. At three, the
line of carriages reached from “la place de la Concorde” to the “Bois de
Boulogne;” and, of course, there were frequent stoppages, even at the
beginning of the _promenade_. The road not employed in this manner, was
filled with equestrians of all ranks, and the walk on both sides was
equally thronged with passengers on foot. There were some few elegant
english equipages, well appointed, and others spoiled, by the shabby
appearance of the servants, or the extreme badness of the horses. The
french coachmakers, in one or two instances, successfully imitated the
fashions of London; but, generally speaking, the attempt only served to
prove the vast distance which exists, between the two countries, in the
art of constructing carriages.
Mixed with “les voitures _à l’anglaise, ou véritablement anglaises_[71]”
were seen old fashioned _berlins_, family coaches, and superannuated
_cabriolets_ of all descriptions. Phaetons, gigs, curricles, and
whiskies, completed the procession. Among the horsemen were seen a few
returned emigrants, who had so well copied the dress of our young men of
_ton_, that they might have been mistaken for the beaux of Bond street;
but the greater number (_malgré_ their leather breeches and boots,
their blue frocks and high crowned hats) betrayed the forgery, by the
preposterous addition of ear-rings, coloured capes, or pointed toes.
The ladies appeared in every variety of clothing. Some, who ventured
to be their own charioteers, assumed the neat and appropriate dress of
an “amazone,” or habit. Others, decorating, and concealing as little
as possible, the charms of their person, shone in all the brilliance
of their evening apparel. Worked gowns, laced caps, and showy turbans,
were sometimes exhibited from the windows of hackney coaches; and a
dirty buggy had, not unfrequently, the honour of conveying three or
four damsels, whose _costume_ would not have been unsuited to the first
heroine of the stage. It is impossible to describe, or convey, the
faintest idea of the grotesque figures which appeared on this occasion;
and, notwithstanding the trouble and expense to which so many individuals
had exposed themselves, by the purchase of new carriages, new liveries,
new horses, new dresses, and last, not least, new leather breeches, the
whole appeared to me but a shabby exhibition, dull amusement.
Moving, in slow procession, to the other side of the _Bois de Boulogne_,
during five or six hours, constituted the whole pleasure of this vaunted
_fête_. There were certainly some elegant carriages, and some handsome
horses; but the number was too inconsiderable to make amends for the
crowd of those of a contrary description. Nothing could be more tiresome
than sitting in one of these vehicles, as they were compelled, every
instant, to stop, on account of the lengthened line, which increased
every moment. Persons on horseback were equally ill off, as it required
the utmost care to avoid being driven against the wheels of the
carriages; and as for the pedestrians, they were almost buried in a
volley of dust.
Such is the celebrated promenade of Long Champ, which, though an annual
festival, appears to me a wretched and pitiful imitation of Hyde park on
an ordinary sunday. Yet the french are delighted with their amusement;
and in returning this evening, I heard on every side, “Quel beau
spectacle! quelles jolies voitures! quels magnifiques chevaux! quelle
belle parure! Vraiment c’est charmant[72]!”