_Large Dogs.--A Plan for becoming quickly acquainted with
Paris.--Pantheon.--Tombs of Voltaire and Rousseau.--Politeness of
an Emigrant.--The Beauty of France.--Beauty evanescent.--Place de
Carousel.--Infernal
Machine.--Fouché.--Seine.--Washerwomen.--Fisherwomen.--Baths._
In the streets of Paris, I every where saw an unusual number of very
large, fierce looking dogs, partaking of the breed of the newfoundland,
and british bulldog. During the time of terrour, these brave and
faithful animals were in much request, and are said to have given the
alarm of danger, and saved, in several instances, the lives and property
of their masters, by their accustomed fidelity. Upon my arrival in this
great capital, I was of course desirous of becoming acquainted with its
leading features as soon as possible, for the purpose of being enabled
to explore my way to any part of it, without a guide. The scheme which I
thought of, for this purpose, answered my wishes, and therefore I may
presume to submit it to others.
On the second day after my arrival, I purchased a map of Paris, hired a
fiacre, and drove to the Pantheon. Upon the top gallery which surmounts
its lofty and magnificent dome, I made a survey of the city, which lay
below me, like the chart with which I compared it. The clouds passed
swiftly over my head, and from the shape of the dome, impressed me with
an idea of moving in the air, upon the top, instead of the bottom of a
balloon. I easily attained my object, by tracing the churches, the
temple, the abbey, the palaces, large buildings, and the course and
islands of the river, after which I seldom had occasion to retrace my
steps, when I was roving about, unaccompanied. On account of no coal
being used in Paris, the prospect was perfectly clear, and the air is
consequently salubrious. The Pantheon, or church of St. Genevieve, is a
magnificent building from the designs of Mons. Soufflet, one of the
first architects of France: it was intended to be the rival of the St.
Paul's of London; but, though a very noble edifice, it must fail of
exciting any emotions of jealousy amongst the admirers of that national
building. It is a magnificent pile, and when completed, is destined to
be the principal place of worship, and is at present the mausoleum of
the deceased great men of France. Upon the entablature over the portico
is written, in immense characters, "AUX GRANDS HOMMES--LA PATRIE
RECONNOISANTE." Parallel with the grand entrance, are colossal statues,
representing the virtues imputed to a republic. Soon after the
completion of the inner dome, about two years since, one of the main
supporting pillars was crushed in several places by the pressure. The
defective column has been removed, and until it can be replaced, its
proportion of weight is sustained by a most ingenious and complicated
wooden structure. Upon the spot where the altar is to be erected, I saw
another goddess of liberty, with her usual appendages carved in wood,
and painted, and raised by the order of Robespierre, for a grand
revolutionary fête, which he intended to have given, in this church,
upon the very day in which he perished. The interior dome is covered
with two larger ones, each of which is supported by separate pillars,
and pilasters, and the whole is constructed of stone only. The interior
of the lower dome is covered with the most beautiful carvings in stone.
The peristyle, or circular colonnade round the lower part of the
exterior of the dome, is very fine, but I must confess, I do not like an
ancient fashion which the french have just revived in their construction
of these pillars, of making the thickest part of the column a little
below the centre, and lessening in size to the base. Under this immense
fabric are spacious vaults, well lighted; supported by doric pillars,
the depositaries of the illustrious dead of France. At present there are
only two personages whose relics are honoured with this gloomy
distinction. Rousseau and Voltaire very quietly repose by the side of
each other. Their remains are contained in two separate tombs, which are
constructed of wood, and are embellished with various inscriptions.
Hamlet's remark over the grave of Ophelia, strongly occurred to me.
"Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of
merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? not one now to mock
your own grinning? quite chapfallen?"
At either end of the tomb of Jean Jacques, are two hands, darting out of
the gates of death, supporting lighted torches, and below, (it is a
little singular) are inscriptions illustrating the _peaceful_, and
benevolent virtues of the enclosed defunct!
Peace to their manes! may they enjoy more repose, than that troubled
world which their extraordinary, yet different talents seemed equally
destined to embellish and to embroil, though it would be difficult to
name any two modern writers, who have expressed, with more eloquence, a
cordial love of peace, and a zealous desire to promote the interests of
humanity!!
The church of St. Genevieve is entirely composed of stone and iron, of
the latter very little is used. It has already cost the nation very near
two millions sterling. As I was returning from the Pantheon, I was
addressed by one of our emigrant companions, to whom I have before
alluded. He had just arrived in Paris, intended staying about a month,
and then returning to Toulon. He warmly made me an offer of his
services, and during my stay here, sent every morning to know if he
should attend me as a friendly guide, to conduct me to any place which I
might wish to see, or to prevent me from suffering any imposition from
tradesmen. His attentions to me were always agreeable, and sometimes
serviceable, and strongly impressed upon my mind, the policy, as well as
the pleasure, of treating every being with civility, even where first
appearances are not favourable, and where an expectation of meeting the
party again is not probable. In the course of the day I was introduced
to Madame B----, who resides, by permission of the first consul, in a
suite of elegant apartments in the Louvre, which have been granted to
her on account of her merits and genius, and also in consideration of
the losses which she has sustained by the revolution. In her study she
presented me to Mademoiselle T----, the then celebrated beauty of
Paris; her portrait by David, had afforded much conversation in the
fashionable circles; she was then copying, with great taste, from the
antique, which is generally the morning's occupation of the french
ladies of fashion. She is certainly a very handsome young woman: but I
think if the painter of France was to visit a certain western county of
England, he would discover as many attractions for the display of his
admirable pencil, as were at this time to be found in the study of
Madame B----. When we left her, Madame B----asked me what I thought of
her; I candidly made the above remark to her, "Ah!" said she, "you
should have seen her about a month since, she was then the prettiest
creature in all France;" how so, has she suffered from indisposition?
"oh no," replied Madame B----, smilingly, "but a _month_, you know,
makes a considerable difference upon the face of beauty."
I was much obliged to Madame B---- for the remark, which is greatly
within an observation which I have frequently made, on the evanescent
nature of youthful beauty. Madame B----'s calculations of the given
progress of decay, were eighteen times more swift than mine. The subject
of our conversation, and the busts by which we were surrounded,
naturally led us to talk of the french ladies, and they reminded us,
though _slightly_, of their present _dress_. Madame B----entered into a
particular account of the decorations of a lady of fashion in France. I
have not patience enough to enumerate them here, except that the wife of
a fournisseur will not hesitate paying from three to four hundred pounds
for a Cachemire shawl, nor from four to five hundred pounds for a laced
gown, nor a much larger sum for diamonds cut like pearls, and threaded.
In this costly manner, does the ingenuity of art, and the prodigality of
wealth do homage to the elegance of nature. The entrance to Madame
B----'s apartments seemed at first, a little singular and unsuitable,
but I soon found that it was no unusual circumstance, after groping
through dirty passages, and up filthy staircases to enter a noble hall
and splendid rooms.
Upon leaving Madame B---- I passed the Place de Carousel, and saw the
ruins of the houses, which suffered by the explosion of the infernal
machine, which afforded so much conversation in the world at the time,
by which the first consul was intended to have been destroyed in his way
to the National Institute of Music. This affair has been somewhat
involved in mystery. It is now well known that Monsieur Fouché, at the
head of the police, was acquainted with this conspiracy from its first
conception, and by his vigilant agents, was informed of the daily
progress made in the construction of this destructive instrument, of the
plan of which he had even a copy. The conspirators proceeded with
perfect confidence, and as they thought with perfect security. Three
days before it was quite completed, and ready for its fell purpose, from
some surprise or dread of detection, they changed their place of
meeting, and in one night removed the machine from the spot where it had
been usually deposited. The penetrating eye of the police lost sight of
them. Fouché, and his followers exercised their unrivalled talents for
pursuit and discovery to no purpose. The baffled minister then waited
upon Bonaparte, to whom he had regularly imparted the result of every
day's information respecting it, and told him that he could no longer
trace the traiterous instrument of his assassination, and requested him,
as he knew it must be completed by this time, not to go to any public
places, until he had regained a knowledge of it. Bonaparte replied, that
fear only made cowards, and conspirators brave, and that he had
unalterably determined to go with his accustomed equipage to the
National Concert that very evening. At the usual hour the first consul
set off undismayed from the Thuilleries, a description of the machine,
which was made to resemble a water cask, being first given to the
coachman, servants, and guards. As they proceeded, the advance guard
passed it unobserved, but the coachman discovered it just as the
consular carriage was on a parallel with it; instantly the dexterous and
faithful charioteer lashed his horses into full speed, and turned the
corner of the Rue Marcem. In one moment after, the terrible machine
exploded, and covered the street with ruins. The thunder of its
discharge shook the houses of Paris, and was heard at a considerable
distance in the country. The first consul arrived in safety at the Hall
of Music, and with every appearance of perfect tranquillity, entered his
box amidst the acclamations of the crowded multitude. The range of
buildings which was shattered by the explosion, has long offended the
eye of taste, and presented a gloomy, and very inconvenient obstruction
to the grand entrance of the palace. Bonaparte, with his usual judgment,
which converts every event into some good, immediately after this
affair, purchased the houses which were damaged, and the whole of this
scene of ruins and rubbish is removing with all possible expedition, to
the great improvement of this grand approach.
Whilst I was strolling along the banks of the Seine, I could not help
remarking that it would suffer much by a comparison with the Thames, so
finely described by sir John Denham--
Though deep, yet clear, though gentle yet not dull:
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.
The Seine is narrow, and very dirty; its waters, which are finely
filtrated when drawn from the fountains of Paris, produce an aperient
effect upon strangers, who are generally cautioned not to drink much of
them at a time.
The tide does not reach further than several miles below Paris; to this
cause I can alone attribute, though perhaps the reason is insufficient,
that the river is never rendered gay by the passing, and repassing of
beautiful pleasure boats, to the delights of which the parisians seem
total strangers. Its shores are sadly disfigured by a number of black,
gloomy, and unwieldy sheds, which are erected upon barges, for the
accommodation of the washerwomen, who, by their mode of washing, which
is, by rubbing the linen in the river water, and beating it with large
flat pieces of wood, resembling battledores, until the dirt, and
generally a portion of the linen retire together, make a noise very
similar to that of shipwrights caulking a vessel. This is an abominable
nuisance, and renders the view up the river, from the centre of the Pont
de la Concorde, the most complete mélange of filth and finery, meanness
and magnificence I ever beheld. Whilst I am speaking of these valuable,
but noisy dames, I must mention that their services are chiefly confined
to strangers, and the humbler class of parisians. The genteel families
of France are annoyed by the unpleasant domestic occurrence of washing,
when in town only once, and when in the country only twice in the course
of the year. Their magazines of clothes are of course immense, for the
reception and arrangement of which several rooms in their houses are
always allotted. It is the intention of the first consul gradually to
unkennel this clattering race of females, when it can be done with
safety. To force them to the tub, and to put them into the suds too
suddenly, might, from their influence amongst the lower classes of
citizens, be followed by consequences not very congenial to the repose
of the government.
To show of what importance the ladies of the lower class in Paris are, I
shall relate a little anecdote of Bonaparte, in which he is considered
to have exhibited as much bravery as he ever displayed in the field of
battle.
The poissardes, whose name alone will awaken some emotion in the mind of
the reader, from its horrible union with the barbarous massacres which
discoloured the capital with blood during the revolution, have been from
time immemorial accustomed, upon any great and fortunate event, to send
a deputation of their sisterhood to the kings and ministers of France,
and since the revolution to the various rulers of the republic, to ofter
their congratulations, accompanied by a large bouquet of flowers. Upon
the elevation of Bonaparte to the supreme authority of France,
according to custom, they sent a select number from their body to
present him with their good wishes, and usual fragrant donation. The
first consul sternly received them, and after rejecting their nosegay,
fiercely told them to retire, and in future to attend to their husbands,
their children, and their fisheries, and never more to attempt an
interference in matters relating to the state. Upon which he ordered the
pages in waiting to close the door upon them. He thought no doubt that
"Omnium manibus res humanæ egent: paucorum capita sufficiunt."--"Human
affairs require the hands of all, whilst the heads of few are
sufficient."
These formidable dames, so celebrated for their ferocity, retired
chagrined and chapfallen from the presence of the imperious consul, and
have not attempted to force either their congratulations, or their
bouquets upon any of the public functionaries since that period. Such a
repulse as this, offered to a body of people, more formidable from their
influence than the lazzaroni of Naples, would in all human probability
have cost any one of the kings of France his crown. I received this
anecdote from the brother of one of the ministers of France to whom this
country is much indebted. Before the high daring of Bonaparte, every
difficulty seems to droop, and die.
Near the Pont de la Concorde is a handsome, and ornamental building,
which is erected upon barges, and contains near three hundred cold and
tepid baths, for men and women. It is surrounded by a wooden terrace,
which forms an agreeable walk upon the water, and is decorated with
shrubs, orange trees, and flowers, on each side.
This place is very grateful in a climate which, in summer, is intensely
warm. There are other public baths, but this is chiefly resorted to by
people of respectability. The price is very moderate, thirty sols.