Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 32

The less important kinds of literature, such as the _Apologue_ or _Moral Fable_, which is not at this day much in fas.h.i.+on; the _Eclogue_ or _Idyl_, whose culture particularly belongs to agrestical and picturesque regions; _Political Satire_, which is never more refined than under the influence of arbitrary power; these kinds, to which I might add the _Madrigal_ and _Epigram_, without being altogether abandoned, are not generally enough cultivated here to obtain special mention. I shall make an exception only in favour of the pastoral poems of LECLERC (of Marne and Loire) of which I have heard a very favourable account.

At the end of a revolution which has had periods so ensanguined, _Romance_, (romantic poetry) must have been cultivated and held in request. It has been so, especially by sentimental minds, and not a little too through the spirit of party; this was likely to be the case, since its most affecting characteristic is to mourn over tombs.

_Lyric poetry_ has been carried by LEBRUN, CHeNIER, &c. to a height worthy of JEAN BAPTISTE ROUSSEAU. The former, above all, will stand his ground, by his weight, to the latest posterity; while hitherto the lyric productions of CHeNIER have not been able to dispense with the charm of musical harmony. FONTANES, CUBIeRES, PONS DE VERDUN, BAOUR-LORNIAN, and DESPAZE are secondary geniuses, who do not make us forget that DELISLE and the Chevalier BERTIN are still living; but whose fugitive pieces sometimes display many charms.

When you shall be made acquainted that Paris, of all the cities in the world, is that where the rage for dancing is the most _nationalized_, where, from the gilded apartments of the most fas.h.i.+onable quarters to the smoky chambers of the most obscure suburbs, there are executed more capers in cadence, than in any other place on earth, you will not be surprised if I reserve a special article for one of the kinds of literature that bears the most affinity to this distinctive diversion of the Parisian belles, which has led MERCIER to say, that their city was the _guingette_ of Europe; I mean _Song_. Perhaps, a subject new and curious to treat on, would be the influence of vocal music on the French revolution.

Every one knows that this people marched to battle singing; but, independently of the subject being above my abilities, it would carry me too far beyond the limited plan which I have prescribed to myself.

Let it suffice for you to know, that there has existed in Paris a sort of lyric manufactory, which, under the name of "_Diners du vaudeville_" scrupulously performed, for several years, an engagement to furnish, every month, a collection of songs very agreeable and very captivating. These productions are pretty often full of allusions, more or less veiled, to the political events of the moment; seldom, however, have they been handled as very offensive weapons against persons or inst.i.tutions. The friends of mirth and wine are seldom dark and dangerous politicians. This country possesses a great number of them, who combine the talents required by the gravest magistracy with all the levity of the most witty and most cheerful _bon vivant_. I shall quote at random FRANcOIS DE NEUFCHaTEAU, the two SeGURS, PIIS, &c. &c. Others, such as BARRe, DESFONTAINES, and RADET, confine themselves to their exclusive functions of professed song-makers, and write only for the little musical theatres, or for the leisure of their countrymen and their evening-amus.e.m.e.nts.

It is impossible to terminate a sketch of the literature of France, without saying a word of such of the _Journals_ as I have yet perused, which are specially devoted to it. The _Mercure de France_ is one of those held in most esteem; and habit, as well as the spirit of party, concurs in making the fortune of this journal. There exists another, conducted by a member of the Inst.i.tute, named POUGENS, under the t.i.tle of _Bibliotheque Francaise_, which is spoken of very favourably. But that which appears every ten days, under the name of _Decade Philosophique_, is the best production of the sort. A society of literary men, prudent, well-informed, and warmly attached to their country, are its authors, and deposit in it a well-digested a.n.a.lysis of every thing new that appears in the arts, sciences, or literature.

Nevertheless, a labour so carefully performed, is perfectly disinterested. This is the only enterprise of the kind that does not afford a livelihood to its a.s.sociates, and is supported by a zeal altogether gratuitous.

Without seeking to blame or approve the t.i.tle of this last-mentioned journal, I shall only remark that the word _Decade_, coupled with the word _Philosophique_, becomes in the eyes of many persons a double cause of reprobation; and that, at this day, more than ever, those two words are, in the opinion the most in fas.h.i.+on, marked by a proscription that is reflected on every thing which belongs to the science of philosophy.

This would be the moment to inquire into the secret or ostensible causes which have led to the retrograde course that is to be remarked in France in the ideas which have been hitherto reckoned as conducive to the advancement of reason. This would be the moment to observe the new government of France endeavouring to balance, the one by the other, the opinions sprung from the Republic, and those daily conjured up from the Monarchy; holding in _equilibrio_ two colours of doctrines so diametrically opposite, and consequently two parties equally dissatisfied at not being able to crush each other, _neutralizing_ them, in short, by its immense influence in the employment of their strength, when they bewilder or exhaust themselves uselessly for its interests; but I could not touch on these matters, without travelling out of the domain of literature, which is the only one that is at present familiar to me, in order to enter into yours, where you have not leisure to direct me; and you may conceive with what an ill grace I should appear, in making before you, in politics, excursions, which, probably, would have for me the inconvenience of commanding great efforts, without leaving me the hope of adding any thing to your stock of information.

LETTER x.x.xV.

_Paris, December 18, 1801._

Divided as Paris is by the Seine, it seldom happens that one has not occasion to cross it more than once in the course of the day. I shall therefore make you acquainted with the bridges which connect to its banks the islands situated in that part of the river I have not yet

described. Being out of my general track, I might otherwise forget to make any further mention of them, which would be a manifest omission, now you have before you the Plan of Paris.

We will also embrace the opportunity of visiting the _Palais de Justice_ and the Cathedral of _Notre-Dame_. East of the _Pont-Neuf_, we first arrive at the

PONT AU CHANGE.

This bridge, which leads from the north bank of the Seine to the _Ile du Palais_, is one of the most ancient in Paris. Though, like all those of which I have now to speak, it crosses but one channel of the river, it was called the _Grand Pont_, till the year 1141, when it acquired its present name on Lewis VII establis.h.i.+ng here all the money-changers of Paris.

It was also called _Pont aux Oiseaux_, because bird-sellers were permitted to carry on their business here, on condition of letting loose two hundred dozen of birds, at the moment when kings and queens pa.s.sed, in their way to the cathedral, on the day of their public entry. By this custom, it was intended to signify that, if the people had been oppressed in the preceding reign, their rights, privileges, and liberties would be fully re-established under the new monarch.

On the public entry of Isabeau de Baviere, wife of Charles VI, a Genoese stretched a rope from the top of the towers of _Notre-Dame_ to one of the houses on this bridge: he thence descended, dancing on this rope, with a lighted torch in each hand. Habited as an angel, he placed a crown on the head of the new queen, and reascending his rope, he appeared again in the air. The chronicle adds that, as it was already dark, he was seen by all Paris and the environs.

This bridge was then of wood, and covered with houses also of wood.

Two fires, one of which happened in 1621, and the other in 1639, occasioned it to be rebuilt of stone in 1647.

The _Pont au Change_ consists of seven arches. Previously to the demolition of the houses, which, till 1786, stood on each side of this bridge, the pa.s.sage was sufficiently wide for three carriages.

Traversing the _Ile du Palais_ from north to south, in order to proceed from the _Pont au Change_ to the _Pont St. Michel_, we pa.s.s in front of the

PALAIS DE JUSTICE.

Towards the end of the ninth century, this palace was begun by Eudes.

It was successively enlarged by Robert, son of Hugh Capet, by St.

Lewis, and by Philip the Fair. Under Charles V, who abandoned it to occupy the _Hotel St. Paul_, which he had built, it was nothing more than an a.s.semblage of large towers, communicating with each other by galleries. In 1383, Charles VI made it his residence. In 1431, Charles VII relinquished it to the Parliament of Paris. However, Francis I. took up his abode here for some time.

It was in the great hall of this palace that the kings of France formerly received amba.s.sadors, and gave public entertainments.

On Whitsunday, 1313, Philip the Fair here knighted his three sons, with all the ceremonies of ancient chivalry. The king of England, our unfortunate Edward II, and his abominable queen Isabella, who were invited, crossed the sea on purpose, and were present at this entertainment, together with a great number of English barons. It lasted eight days, and is spoken of, by historians, as a most sumptuous banquet.

This magnificent hall, as well as great part of the palace, being reduced to ashes in 1618, it was rebuilt, in its present state, under the direction of that skilful architect, JACQUES DE BROSSES. It is both s.p.a.cious and majestic, and is the only hall of the kind in France: the arches and arcades which support it are of hewn stone.

Another fire, which happened in 1776, consumed all the part extending from the gallery of prisoners to the _Sainte Chapelle_, founded by St. Lewis, and where, before the revolution, were shewn a number of costly relics. The ravages occasioned by this fire, were repaired in 1787, and the s.p.a.ce in front laid open by the erection of uniform buildings in the form of a crescent. To two gloomy gothic gates has been subst.i.tuted an iron railing, of one hundred and twenty feet in extent, through which is seen a s.p.a.cious court formed by two wings of new edifices, and a majestic facade that affords an entrance to the interior of the palace.

In this court Madame La Motte, who, in 1786, made so conspicuous a figure in the noted affair of the diamond necklace, was publicly whipped. I was in Paris at the time, though not present at the execution of the sentence.

In the railing, are three gates, the centre one of which is charged with garlands and other gilt ornaments. At the two ends are pavilions decorated with four Doric pillars. Towards the _Pont St. Michel_ is a continuation of the building ornamented with a bas-relief, at present denominated _Le serment civique_.

At the top of a flight of steps, is an avant-corps, with four Doric columns, a bal.u.s.trade above the entablature, four statues standing on a level with the base of the pillars, and behind, a square dome.

These steps lead you to the _Merciere_ gallery, having on the one side, the _Sainte Chapelle_, and on the other, the great hall, called the _Salle des Procureurs_. In this extensive hall are shops, for the sale of eatables and pamphlets, which, since the suppression of the Parliament, seem to have little custom, as well as those of the milliners, &c. in the other galleries.

In what was formerly called the _grande chambre_, where the Parliament of Paris used to sit, the ill-fated Lewis XVI, in 1788, held the famous bed of justice, in which D'ESPRESMENIL, one of the members of that body, struck the first blow at royalty; a blow that was revenged by a _lettre de cachet_, which exiled him to the _Ile de St. Marguerite_, famous for being the place of confinement of the great personage who was always compelled to wear an _iron mask_. The courage of this counsellor, who was a n.o.ble and deputy of the _n.o.blesse_, may be considered as the _primum mobile_ of the revolution. Under the despotism of the court, he braved all its vengeance; but, in the sequel, he afforded a singular proof of the instability of the human mind. After haying stirred up all the parliaments against the royal authority, he again became the humble servant of the crown.

After the revolution, the _Palais de Justice_ became the seat of the Revolutionary Tribunal, where the satellites of Robespierre, not content with sending to the scaffold sixty victims at a time, complained of the insufficiency of their means for bringing to trial all the enemies of liberty. Dumas, at one time president of this sanguinary tribunal, proposed to his colleagues to join to the hall, where the tribunal sat, part of the great hall of the palace, in order to a.s.semble there five or six hundred victims at a time; and on its being observed to him that such a sight might in the end disgust the people; "Well," said he, "there's but one method of accomplis.h.i.+ng our object, without any obstacle, that is to erect a guillotine in the court-yard of every prison, and cause the prisoners to be executed there during the night." Had not Robespierre's downfall involved that of all his blood-thirsty dependents, there seems no doubt that this plan would have been carried into speedy execution.

Nothing can paint the vicissitude of human events in colours more striking than the transitions of this critical period. Dumas who made this proposal, and had partially satisfied his merciless disposition by signing, a few hours before, the death-warrant of sixty victims, was the very next day brought before the same tribunal, composed of his accomplices, or rather his creatures, and by them condemned to die. Thus did experience confirm the general observation, that the multiplicity and enormity of punishments announces an approaching revolution. The torrents of blood which tyrants shed, are, in the end, swelled by their own.

In lieu of a tribunal of blood, the _Palais de Justice_ is now appropriated to the sittings of the three tribunals, designated by the following t.i.tles: _Tribunal de ca.s.sation_, _Tribunal d'appel_, and _Tribunal de premiere instance_. The first of these, the _Tribunal de ca.s.sation_, occupies the audience-chambers of the late parliament; while the _grande chambre_ is appointed for the meetings of its united Sections. The decoration of this s.p.a.cious apartment is entirely changed: it is embellished in the antique style; and a person in contemplating it might fancy himself at Athens.

Adjoining to the _Palais de Justice_, is the famous prison, so dreaded in the early periods of the revolution, called

LA CONCIERGERIE.

From this fatal abode, neither talent, virtue, nor patriotism could, at one time, secure those who possessed such enviable qualities.

Lavoisier, Malsherbes, Condorcet, &c. were here successively immured, previously to being sent to the guillotine. Here too the unfortunate Marie-Antoinette lived in a comfortless manner, from the 2nd of July, 1793, to the 13th of October following, the period of her condemnation.

On being reconducted to the prison, at four o'clock in the morning, after hearing her sentence read, the hapless queen displayed a fort.i.tude worthy of the daughter of the high-minded Maria Theresa.

She requested a few hours' respite, to compose her mind, and entreated to be left to herself in the room which she had till then occupied. The moment she was alone, she first cut off her hair, and then laying aside her widow's weeds, which she had always worn since the death of the king, put on a white dress, and threw herself on her bed, where she slept till eleven o'clock the same morning, when she was awakened, in order to be taken to the scaffold.

Continuing to cross the _Ile du Palais_ in a direction towards the south, we presently reach the

PONT ST. MICHEL.

This bridge stands in a direct line with the _Pont au Change_, and is situated on the south channel of the river. It was formerly of wood: but having been frequently destroyed, it was rebuilt with stone in 1618, and covered on both sides with houses. From the _Pont Neuf_, the back of these buildings has a most disagreeable and filthy appearance. It is said that they are to be taken down, as those have been which stood on the other bridges.

In severe winters, when there is much ice in the river, it is curious, on the breaking up of the frost, to behold families deserting their habitations, like so many rats, and carrying with them their valuables, from the apprehension that these crazy tenements might fall into the river. This wise precaution is suggested by the knowledge of these bridges, when built of wood, having been often swept away by ice or great inundations.

The _Pont St. Michel_ consists of four arches. Its length is two hundred and sixty-eight feet, by sixty in breadth, including the houses, between which is a pa.s.sage for three carriages.

If, to avoid being entangled in narrow, dirty streets, we return, by the same route, to the north bank of the Seine, and proceed to the westward, along the _Quai de Gevres_, which is partly built on piles, driven into the bed of the river, we shall come to the

PONT NOTRE-DAME.

A wooden bridge, which previously existed here, having been frequently carried away by inundations, Lewis XII ordered the construction of the present one of stone, which was begun in 1499, and completed in 1507. It was built from the plan of one JOCONDE, a Cordelier, and native of Verona, and is generally admired for the solidity, as well as beauty of its architecture. It consists of six arches, and is two hundred and seventy-six feet in length. Formerly it was bordered by houses, which were taken down in 1786: this has rendered the quarter more airy, and consequently more salubrious.