how rapidly the french are adopting our fashions; and, notwithstanding
the awkward manner in which they are sometimes copied, yet such is the
general bias, that I entertain no doubt that, in the space of ten years,
(if the peace should last so long), it will become almost impossible to
distinguish, by his dress, a native of France from one of England.
The ladies of Paris, and those of London, differ, indeed, very widely in
their toilet. Perhaps they might reciprocally improve by observing each
other; and while the former would do right to respect and imitate the
modesty, with which the latter are usually clad, our fair countrywomen
might also, without any injury to their beauty, or any violation of that
delicacy, which is their brightest ornament, adopt some of that taste,
elegance, and fancy, which are often seen in the dress of a well bred
frenchwoman.
Adieu, my dear sir. I am heartily tired of my subject, and fear you will
have been so some time. I therefore take my leave for the present.
I am, &c.
LETTER XXVI.
_Te Deum_ sung at _Notre Dame_, in honour of the peace and the
reestablishment of religion.—Military insolence.—Account of the
ceremony.—Illuminations in the evening.—Indifference of the
people.
Paris, april the 18th, 1802, Easter Sunday (28 germinal.)
MY DEAR SIR,
To day will probably be long remembered in the annals of France, on
account of the promulgation of the law for (“_l’établissement des
cultes_”) the reestablishment of religion; on account of the definitive
treaty of peace with England, the ratifications of which were exchanged
this morning at the Thuilleries; and of the “Te Deum” sung at _Notre
Dame_, in honour of these united events.
I wished very much to be present at a ceremony, which was rendered
so particularly interesting by the number of curious concurring
circumstances, too obvious to be detailed. Having no ticket, I went
to the church at six o’clock in the morning, hoping to make my way,
among the crowd, into those places, which were not appropriated to the
constituted authorities. The doors were not open; and about a hundred
persons, who were already arrived, stood enclosed in a kind of barrier,
which seemed to have been put up for the purpose of preventing too great
a press at the first opening of the gates. I placed myself against this
bar, and hoped to gain admittance in the second division. I was soon
followed and surrounded by a considerable crowd; and, after we had all
remained about two hours in this uncomfortable state, a detachment of
soldiers arrived, and attempted instantly to clear a passage. We were
already so squeezed together, that it was impossible to make room for
the military, without either losing our places, or incurring the danger
of suffocation. When the soldiers perceived that, notwithstanding the
blows which they dealt around them without ceremony, the people did
not immediately make way, they lost all patience; and, not content
with fixing their bayonets, called out for a detachment of horse. The
brandishing of the one, and the fear of the other, soon dispersed the
mob; but not till some had been wounded, and several severely bruised.
I could not help reflecting, with some degree of indignation, on this
singular scene. In England, under a monarchical form of government,
the military are not allowed to interfere, but in cases of positive
danger, or actual insurrection; and even then under the orders of a
civil magistrate. In France, where the system is called “republican,”
and every man supposed to constitute a part of the sovereignty, the body
of the people, coming quietly to see the first solemn service of that
religion, which is said to be restored in compliance with their wishes,
are driven with blows and military violence from the doors of that
church, in which peace, liberty, equality, and good order, are about to
be celebrated. Perhaps, indeed, it may be urged, that this was only a
necessary precaution of the police, and that the object of the guard was
to prevent that riot and danger to which the public, not so protected,
would have been exposed. The answer is plain. If it was thought necessary
to maintain order by the assistance of the military power, the sentinels
ought to have been placed the preceding night, or at the dawn of morning.
It was adding insult to cruelty, to permit the people to assemble, and
after the loss of several hours, and the endurance of great fatigue, to
dismiss them in the manner I have described.
It is needless for me to say, that I soon relinquished all hope of
getting into the church, and thought myself happy in being able to make
my escape unhurt from the claws of these heroes.
In going away, I perceived at the window of an adjoining hospital, nearly
opposite the church, some ladies of my acquaintance, who were so obliging
as to offer me a place near them, from which I might see the procession.
I had scarcely taken this situation, when a ticket for one of the
privileged places in the church was given me by a person, who was
unwilling to risk the difficulties, with which the approach to the doors
seemed attended. After being sent about to different gates, I at last
found admittance at one. When I reached the gallery, it was so completely
full, that I found myself compelled to take refuge in the orchestra.
From this situation I was again driven by the soldiers; and in despair
I returned to the gallery, where, standing on the back of a tottering
chair, and with at least twenty rows of spectators before me, I caught,
not without some danger, a very imperfect glimpse of this splendid
ceremony.
What I did not see myself, I shall relate on the authority of persons,
who were more fortunately situate, and on whose accuracy I know I can
depend.
The procession began with a numerous escort of different regiments.
Among these were particularly remarked “les guides,” a corps of handsome
young men, clad in hussar dresses, and mounted on beautiful horses, who
excited universal admiration. Next to them came the “_gens d’armes_,” or
“_régiment d’élites_,” lately raised. They are men of a very respectable
appearance, in blue uniforms, faced with yellow, whence long epaulets are
suspended. These, as well as the buttons, are of silver, as is the lace
of their hats. Their horses are black. The consular guards, and several
regiments of the line, completed the military cavalcade. The ministers
of state, and the “corps diplomatique,” came next, and formed a long line
of carriages. Those of the latter were drawn each by four horses, and
ornamented with all the escutcheons of heraldic pomp. Those of the former
were without arms; but they had all six horses, and their servants,
dressed alike, wore splendid liveries, now put on for the first time, of
yellow, gold, and red. A small corps of _Mamalukes_ in their egyptian
_costume_, some of whom led unmounted arabians, and a few aides-de-camp,
immediately preceded the carriage, in which sat Bonaparte, accompanied
by the other two consuls. His coach, new on the occasion, was simply
elegant, and drawn by eight very fine horses richly caparisoned. His
servants appeared in green coats and red waistcoats, on all the seams of
which were rows of broad gold lace. The consuls were received at the door
of the church by the archbishop of Paris, who placed over their head a
_dais_ (or canopy).
_Bonaparte_, with _Cambacères_ on his right, and _le Brun_ on his left
hand, was conducted in this manner to a throne erected near the altar,
under which their three chairs were placed. A similar throne appeared
opposite, in which sat the cardinal legate.
The bishops bowed first to the altar, secondly to the consul, and
lastly to the cardinal. This was remarked by the public; as, under the
monarchy, the representative of the pope was permitted to receive this
homage before the sovereign of the country.
The oath settled by the _concordat_ having been taken by the clergy, high
mass was instantly said.
At the conclusion of this ceremony, M. _de Boisgelin_, formerly
archbishop of Aix, lately named archbishop of Tours, ascended the pulpit,
and delivered a discourse appropriate to the occasion. I regretted
much, that the distance at which I was placed was so great, that it was
impossible for me to hear the venerable preacher, who excited no little
curiosity, from the singularity of his situation. He is the same man,
who, at the “_sacre_” or coronation, of Lewis XVI, preached before that
unfortunate monarch. His sermon will, no doubt, be published in the
“moniteur,” where you will have an opportunity of seeing it.
It was the custom formerly on these occasions, for the bishop, in
beginning his discourse, to address himself to the king. A similar
form was observed to day, and the expression of “_sire_” was exchanged
for that of “_citoyen premier consul_.” After the sermon, “Te Deum”
was chanted. All the band of the opera house was employed, and _Lais_
and _madame Bolla_ supplied the vocal parts. The effect was fine, yet,
comparatively, very inferiour to our musical meetings in Westminster
abbey. I heard some _connoisseurs_ object to the air, as not sufficiently
grave or dignified for the subject which it was intended to celebrate. As
I am totally ignorant of music, I can form no judgment as to the justice
of the criticism.
The church was immensely full. The aisle was filled with the military,
the different uniforms of which had a splendid effect. Behind the consuls
sat the ambassadors, the ministers, and the generals. In a box above, at
the entrance of the chapel, was placed madame Bonaparte, accompanied by
her daughter and some other ladies. On the other side was a similar box,
appropriate to the use of the ladies of the “corps diplomatique.”
The two galleries or choirs, which surround the church, were divided
into an orchestra for the music, seats for the different constituted
authorities, and places for such individuals as were favoured with
tickets. In the latter were of course seen all the persons at Paris
most distinguished for situation, talent, or beauty. The _coup d’œil_
altogether was very striking. The procession returned with the same
ceremony as that in which it arrived; and all the streets of Paris were
lined with spectators.
A discharge of sixty cannon was heard at the departure of the first
consul from the Thuilleries; and his arrival at the church, and his
return to the palace, were announced in the same manner.
In the evening, the palace was splendidly illuminated. Every division of
the arches forming the front towards the garden was covered with lamps,
and a lustre of lights was suspended from each. The garden itself was
prettily, but less brilliantly, decorated, than on the _fête_ in honour
of the preliminaries.
All the public buildings and offices were also lighted; but the only
illumination at all remarkable, beside those which I have named, was
that of Mr. Jackson, his majesty’s envoy extraordinary. The gates of
“l’hôtel de Caramon,” where he lodges, were entirely covered with lamps
of different colours; the effect of which was much admired, as at Paris
that mode of decorating their rejoicings is unknown. On the right hand
were the letters R. F. (République Française); and on the left, G. R.
(Georgius Rex).
I forgot to mention that Bonaparte was much applauded by the populace, in
going to _Notre Dame_; and that _madame_ received the same compliment,
though she went there without any parade, in a plain handsome carriage,
and seemed to decline, rather than to court, the notice of the public.
During the illuminations there was no noise, and, indeed, no expression
of joy. Very few people were seen in the Thuilleries, though the weather
was fine, and the day sunday. The more I see of the french, the more
am I astonished and disgusted at the indifference which they have
contracted. Their dullness is the more disagreeable, from it’s being
unnatural; and I cannot help exclaiming, every hour, with Voltaire,
Que je plains un françois, quand il est sans gaieté;
Loin de son élément le pauvre homme est jetté[73].
Adieu.
LETTER XXVII.
_Palais de Justice._—Account of the different tribunals or
courts of law.
Paris, april the 30th, 1802, (10 floréal.)
MY DEAR SIR,
I went this morning to the “_Palais de Justice_,” in order to visit the
different tribunals. The “_façade_,” or front, of this building has a
commanding appearance. A handsome iron railing, with three gates, forms
its barrier; after passing through which, you ascend a lofty flight of
stone steps. The avenues to the principal hall are filled with shops
of various descriptions, and particularly those of booksellers. The
hall, or central room, which is of considerable extent, forms a kind of
antichamber to the different courts. I went into one of the “tribunals
de premier instance,” in each of which three judges preside. They wear
long bands, and black coats, from which is suspended a cloke or gown
of black silk. The advocates plead in a sort of bar; but, excepting
being dressed in black, have no distinguishing badge, or professional
decoration. The judges had a grave appearance; and, though they did not
seem to be men of much importance, conducted themselves with decency
and propriety. I was present while some causes were argued; but they
were not of sufficient consequence to enable me to form any estimate of
the talents of the advocates, now called, in the general change of name,
“des défenseurs officiaux[74].” As to their outward garb, it was not
prepossessing; and, if it were not unjust to form any conclusion from
mere exteriors, I should say, that a french counsel and an english one
appear to be drawn from a very different class of society. I next saw a
court, which, under the title of “tribunal de la police correctionelle,”
is charged with the investigation and punishment of petty offences. I
here heard the trial of a man charged with pawning, for his own use,
some goods belonging to a shop, in which he was employed as a workman.
The witnesses were regularly examined; after which the criminal was very
patiently heard in his defence. As he had nothing to urge but his poverty
and the charges of a large family, he was found guilty by the judges,
(for I observed no jury) and was sentenced, though an old offender, to
only six months imprisonment. This trial having satisfied my curiosity
about “la police correctionelle,” I next visited the chief or supreme
court of the republic, which is called “le tribunal de cassation.” Here
every thing bore a more dignified appearance. The room was lofty, the
seats elevated, and the judges (whose number was considerable) seemed,
by their dress, their manner, and their language, to be well suited to
the important functions of their office. They wore black and red gowns,
with cocked hats, the cords of which were of gold lace. Nothing can be
more respectable than the exterior of this court; of the proceedings of
which I could form no idea, as the judges were employed in reading papers
relating to mere matters of form. I imagine, that this is the tribunal
intended, in some respects, to replace the parliament of Paris. The
magistrates, as far as I could form an opinion from this cursory visit,
seem men of education, learning, and polished manners.
Before I left the _Palais de Justice_, I looked in at the criminal court
of the “_départment de la Seine_.” A culprit was reading a long written
defence, which I had not the patience to hear concluded. The room was
handsome, and the proceedings orderly and correct. I saw here nothing
like a jury; yet I am told, that all capital offences are tried by that
mode of process. An Italian was a few days ago tried in this court, and
convicted of assassination. I regret much, that I was not present at
the trial. I did not hear of the circumstance till to day. He yesterday
underwent the punishment of the _guillotine_, being led to the scaffold
in a red shirt, this disgrace being added to the sentence in cases of
murder. I ought to mention, in honour of the present criminal laws of
France, that this is the first individual, who has been condemned to
death, during the six months which I have passed at Paris.
Underneath the “_Palais de Justice_” is situate that fatal prison, called
“_la Conciergerie_.” It was here that the sanguinary _Robespierre_
immured the daily victims of his wild and unrelenting tyranny; who
awaited, within its dismal walls, the signal of death, under the
insulting and degraded name of trial. It was here, that rank, beauty,
age, philosophy, virtue, and patriotism, took the places of vice; and,
in the caverns destined to receive the blackest perpetrators of hideous
crimes, were hurled, among multitudes of other innocent and dignified
characters, the learned _Condorcet_, the ingenious _Lavoisier_, the
respectable _Madame Roland_, the venerable _Malesherbes_, and the lovely,
courageous, and once haughty queen of France. When I have been forced to
make such painful reflections, in viewing the different objects which
present themselves at Paris, I have always found some consolation in
looking round me, and seeing how completely that system of suspicion,
bloodshed, and injustice, has passed away. Those horrors, so disgraceful
to France, took place in a moment of national delirium (if I may be
permitted the expression); and the inhabitants of Paris, who committed,
or rather suffered, the scenes of judicial murder, which every day
contaminated the streets of the capital, now, restored to their senses,
are the first to deplore and execrate them. I am persuaded, that crimes
like these can never again find their way into the polished metropolis of
this great, brave, and ingenious people.
With this hope I shall conclude my letter—a hope, in which I am certain
that you will warmly and cordially unite.
I am, &c.
LETTER XXVIII.
The gardens and walks of Paris.
Paris, may the 2d, 1802 (12 floréal).
MY DEAR SIR,
Whenever you come to Paris, come with the smiling month of may. On my
arrival here, at the end of october, I was disgusted with the dirt of the
streets, the mire of the Thuilleries, the ruts of the Boulevards, and the
general gloom of the town. Accustomed to take a great deal of exercise, I
could not persuade myself to be shut up, the whole of every day, either
in a hot room, or a close carriage. I therefore continued to walk about:
but, while my feet were cut to pieces at every step, I was frequently
in danger of being run over by a rapid cabriolet, or squeezed to atoms
under the ponderous wheels of an overloaded cart. Nor was I consoled for
this hazardous undertaking by meeting with any conversable persons of my
acquaintance.
The parisians, who have carriages, never think of walking during the
severe days of winter; and those who do not possess that convenience,
spend the greater part of every day at home. To save the expense of a
_fiacre_[75], they will, indeed, sometimes use their feet in going to a
_restaurateur’s_, a _spectacle_, or a ball, or in paying some of those
innumerable visits, in which an inhabitant of this town passes half his
life; but, as to taking exercise for health, it never enters into the
calculations of a frenchman. Nothing, therefore, could be so dismal as
the streets in the months of november, december, and january; and a
severer punishment could not be devised for the daily murder of time
committed by our Bond street loungers, than to condemn them to a three
months pilgrimage, at that period of the year, round the streets of Paris.
The spring has, with fine weather, changed the face of every thing here;
and a person fond of exercise may now have all the advantages which he
can possibly desire.
The _Thuilleries_ and _Champs Elisées_, which in winter are almost
impassable, now offer excellent gravel walks, and delightful shade under
the long avenues of lofty trees. Here crowds are collected at almost
every hour of the day; and, besides long lines of pedestrians, rows
of chairs are filled with ladies eating ice, and politicians reading
newspapers.
The Bois de Boulogne affords an admirable ride for persons in carriages
or on horseback, and a lengthened walk for those on foot.
Besides these, there are several delightful gardens open to the public
in different parts of the town. The Boulevards, which surround Paris on
every side, are now seen to great advantage.
The walks are in high order, the trees are in rich foliage; and the
number of mountebanks, printsellers, quack doctors, and shows of all
kinds, collected here, and the crowds of persons and carriages which are
constantly passing, make them present a very curious and lively scene.
The “_Hameau de Chantilly_,” or _Elisée de Bourbon_, very near the Champs
Elisées, has a very pretty, though not an extensive garden, into which,
for a few _sols_, you gain admittance. It was hence I saw madame Garnerin
ascend, about a month ago, in a balloon, unaccompanied by any one. The
day was fine; and we were all much delighted with the courage of the fair
heroine, who was the first female that had ventured alone on such an
expedition.
She descended a few leagues from Paris, and supped, the same evening,
in public, at the _Hameau_, where she was received with universal and
merited applause.
I am particularly pleased with a garden, called “_Mousseux, ou les
délices de Chartre_,” situate in the _Fauxbourg St. Honoré_, and within
the gates of Paris. It formerly belonged to the duke of Orleans; but,
having been confiscated with the rest of his enormous fortune, is now
national property, and open every day for the use of the public. The
garden is arranged in the english taste, commands an extensive view,
and has all the advantages and appearance of grounds at a considerable
distance from a capital. Fine verdure, trees of every kind in the must
luxuriant blossom, variety of flowers, a clear sky, and birds warbling
a thousand wild notes, make you entirely forget the town; and the whole
seems a fairy scene produced by enchantment.
The only things in bad taste, I mean the modern antiques and drawbridges,
are now falling into decay; and the artificial ruins are daily becoming
real ones.
The salon or house consists of a long gallery; but it has been so much
neglected during the revolution, that it is now in a very tottering and
dangerous state. “Mousseux” is still a most delightful spot, and must
have been exquisitely so, when kept in proper order. I doubt much, if
such a garden is to be found within the walls of any other capital in
Europe.
I ought to mention, that, though the town is completely hidden in the
shady walks of this charming retreat, one of the best views of Paris is
enjoyed from a hillock of easy ascent, situate in the centre of these
grounds. There is a _traiteur_ at the door of the garden, where dinners
may be ordered; but his accommodations (as far as can be judged from
the outward appearance of his habitation) I should suppose not very
superiour. I have heard, however, of large and fashionable parties, who
have dined here. Nothing is paid for walking in the garden.
At the further end of the _Bois de Boulogne_, about two miles from Paris,
there is another place of this kind, which, whenever you come to Paris,
I recommend your visiting. It is called “_Bagatelle_,” and formerly
belonged to the _Comte D’Artois_, who is said to have built the house and
arranged the grounds in the space of six weeks. The building, which is
now an inn or tavern, is light and elegant; and the garden (allowing for
some few exceptions) is laid out with considerable taste. Near the house
there is a very pretty and very striking view of the bridge of _Neuilly_.
The accommodations here are good, and a person fond of the country cannot
pass a fine evening more agreeably, than by dining at _Bagatelle_, and
strolling afterwards about the grounds.
Before I conclude my account of the gardens of Paris, I ought to mention
two, which, are opened at this season of the year, at a late hour,
and usually frequented after the opera, or other _spectacles_; I mean
_Frescati_ and _Tivoli_.