_Dear Jane_:--
Marcella Erisford has arrived, accompanied by her father, who returns
to Soissons to-morrow. He has been residing there eleven months, in
order to settle some business, relative to a legacy left him by an
intimate friend; in the spring he expects to re-embark for
Philadelphia, his native city. He resembles his sister, Mrs. Danville,
and appears equally amiable and desirous of contributing to the
happiness of those around him. We shall sincerely regret his
departure. Marcella is quite a beauty, with her glowing cheeks, hazel
eyes and pearly teeth, although her features are by no means regular.
She is less lively than Leonora, but just as intelligent and
accomplished; so you see I have two delightful companions to console
me (if it were _possible_) for your absence. Our brother Edgar is, I
think, desperately smitten with Marcella; certes, when she is by, he
has neither eyes or ears for any body or anything else.
Now for our peregrinations. The weather being remarkably fine on
Tuesday, and the carriages at the door by nine o'clock, according to
order, we proceeded to Montmorency and the Abbey of St. Denis. Oh, how
your pensive spirit will luxuriate in wandering through the solemn
aisles and caverns of this "hoary pile," among the sepulchres of its
mighty dead! You are aware that during the revolution, this asylum of
deceased royalty, was invaded by a barbarous populace, who dragged the
corpses from their graves, loaded them with indignities, and cast them
into ditches and other places of filth. It is related that the corpse
of the brave Louis XIV, when thus profaned, raised its arm, as if to
strike the miscreant who dared the deed, while that of the good Henri
Quatre (which was found uninjured by time) smiled benignantly on his
ungrateful subjects! The tombs have since been restored by Napoleon,
who intended for himself and his descendants the vault which is
appropriated to the Bourbons. It is secured by two massive bronze
gates, which he had made to close upon his own ashes, that now repose
under a simple stone on the barren island of St. Helena! So changes
the glory of this world and its mighty ones! The Abbey of Saint Denis
was originally a plain chapel, erected by a pious and wealthy lady
named Catulla, to shelter the remains of that martyr (St. Denis) and
his companions, after their execution. The generosity and care of
various monarchs, have transformed the humble chapel into the present
majestic cathedral. The relics of St. Denis are enclosed in a splendid
shrine, the gift of Louis XVIII; and the sumptuous altar in front of
this, with its enormous gold candlesticks, was given to the church by
Bonaparte, after his marriage with the Empress Marie Louise, on which
occasion it was first erected in the Louvre, where the ceremony was
performed. In the side aisles of St. Denis, are several superb
monuments, in memory of Francis I, Henry II, and Henry III, and their
queens. The antique sepulchres of Dagobert, and his spouse Nantilde,
are near the door, and that of Dagobert most curiously carved. In one
of the vaults we saw the stone coffin of King Pepin; it is open and
empty, and when struck upon the side, sounds like metal. Near the
mausoleum of Francis I, stands the mimic bier of Louis XVIII, canopied
and richly decorated with funereal ornaments. It will remain until
succeeded by that of Charles X, for such is the custom of France. What
gave rise to it I know not; but we may reasonably suppose that it was
intended, like the monitor of Philip of Macedon, to remind the
reigning monarch of his mortality.
At Montmorency we had fine sport riding about on donkeys to the
different points of view that merit notice for their beauty. The
little animal upon which Mr. Erisford rode, was at first extremely
refractory, and the trouble he had to force it along excited our
mirth; then my saddle girth broke, and this was another source of
merriment. After riding over the valley, we alighted at the hunting
seat of the unhappy father of the murdered Duke d'Enghien, the present
prince of Condé, who is said to be yet overwhelmed with affliction at
the untimely and cruel end of his noble son. The place is called the
"Rendezvous;" it is shady and pleasant--the house a plain stone
building: we did not enter it, but partook of some cool milk beneath
the trees, in front of the door. We purchased it of the game keeper
and his wife, who reside there. Retracing our path, (and the little
donkeys, I assure you, trotted _back_ much faster than they _went_,)
we stopped at the Hermitage. This is the most interesting object to be
seen at Montmorency, and indeed the chief attraction to that
spot--although circumstances induced us to defer our visit to it till
the last. It is a quarter of a mile from the village, and was the
residence of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and afterwards of Andrew Gretry,
the musical composer, whose family still occupy it. They are so
obliging as to allow strangers to visit this rural retreat of those
celebrated men, and have arranged in a small apartment, various
articles that were owned and used by them, and that are consequently
interesting to the spectator; for instance, the bedstead and table of
Rousseau; the cup and saucer of Gretry; his comb and spectacles, and
the antique little spinet upon which he tried his compositions. A
flower garden adjoins the mansion, and there we saw a rose bush that
was planted by Jean Jacques, and the stone bench upon which he used to
sit while writing his "Héloise." From the bay tree that shades it, I
procured a leaf for your herbarium. A rivulet meanders through the
garden, and empties into a small lake, near which is the bust of
Gretry, supported by a column, with an inscription in gilt letters.
Rousseau's bust occupies a niche in the wall, and is covered with a
glass to protect it from the pencils of scribblers, which have
disfigured it considerably. Bidding adieu to the Hermitage, we
returned to the "White Horse," an excellent inn we had selected in the
town, and having recruited ourselves with a hearty dinner, resumed our
seats upon the donkeys, and repaired to the village of d'Enghien, (a
mile distant,) to see its neat and commodious sulphur baths, and the
pretty lake of St. Gratien, on the border of which it stands. In the
centre of the water is a restaurant, to which, if you choose, you are
conveyed in a boat; but it was so late, that our parents would not
consent to make this aquatic excursion, and we therefore returned to
Montmorency, and thence to Paris. A bright moon lighted us home, where
we arrived about eleven o'clock, pleased with our day's adventures,
and so sleepy we could scarcely reach our chambers without falling
into a slumber on the way. On Sunday Mr. Dorval brought us six tickets
of admission to the Chapel of the Tuileries, where high mass is
performed every Sabbath while the king is in the city. Not a moment
was to be lost, so we hastened to array ourselves for the occasion, as
full dress is required if you sit in the gallery with the royal
family, and our billets were such as to admit us there. Marcella,
Leonora and myself had just purchased new bonnets, and these we wore.
Their's are of straw colored crape, ornamented with blond and bunches
of lilacs, and are very becoming; mine is of pink, and decorated with
blond and white hyacynths. Our party, consisting of Mamma, Papa,
Edgar, and our three ladyships, was soon ready and at the palace. The
chapel was crowded, but we found no difficulty in obtaining seats--for
on presenting our tickets, the captain of the guards handed us to
them, and the throng yielded to him without hesitation. The music was
very fine, and we had a close view of the Bourbons and their suite.
They were sumptuously clad, and the King and Duke and Duchess of
Angoulême seemed very devout. The Duchess has a most melancholy
expression of countenance, owing perhaps to the sad vicissitudes of
her youth. Neither she, her spouse or uncle are popular. The Duchess
de Berri is exceedingly so, and is considered one of the most
charitable ladies in the kingdom. She is extremely fair, has light
hair and a pleasing face. She is not sufficiently dignified, I think,
and is a terrible fidget; during service she was continually adjusting
her tucker, necklace, or sleeve. It is reported, that when the
omnibuses, or circulating carriages of the boulevards were first
introduced, she made a bet with the king that she would ride in one of
them, and actually did so, in disguise! I am summoned to the parlor to
receive visiters--so kiss my hand to you.